Miles to Go Before I Sleep
by Penelope Cross
Summary: Senior year was supposed to mean everything, right?  Cheerios, Glee Nationals, Brittany, it was all supposed to be Santana's.  What happens when everything gets taken from her?  What happens when she literally has nothing left?
1. Chapter 1  Into the Night

**A/N: ** Okay, this is my first Brittana fic. My first Glee fic...my first non-Harry Potter fic. So, stay with me. I hope it works out. This is just something angsty I got an idea for a story and went with it. The first chapter is really long but I needed to cover a lot and end up at a certain place so I could get done what I wanted to get done. Obviously this is the opening of Season 3/Senior year. I don't think I'll be following the new episodes when they return, but I'll try to keep things as close to the story as possible. I want to follow Santana's plotline and Brittany. Well, mainly them together. I know this is a bit choppy, but that's due to needing to get through things. I hope this doesn't suck! Probably does.

**Chapter 1: Into the Night**

And it had all started out so perfectly. Brittany and Artie, well, weren't Brittany and Artie. They had separated towards the end of the year and I had been lucky enough to spend almost every day with the blue eyed, blonde, bombshell that was rocking me to my core.

That should have been the first sign, really. That things felt right, they felt good. Everything had just been happening perfectly. Brittany and I…well, it was complicated. But what else was new, really? She was so easy to be around so purely good to me and for me that I never wanted to label us. It made things complicated and made other people think it was okay for them to talk about and it wasn't. What Brittany and I had was private and special just for us, not for the world.

At least, I wasn't ready to share it with the world. That had been the problem.

When summer began to come to an end Brittany wanted to talk. But not just _talk_, have a conversation. One I wasn't ready for.

"San," her voice was soft. Very soft. We were laying outside on the trampoline in her backyard. Her head was on my stomach my left hand intertwined in hers while my other hand played absentmindedly with her hair. I was so…content. I didn't feel any anger or angst swelling inside of me like it had been for the last few months of school. All I felt was Brittany. Her head on me, her hand in mine, her reassuring presence. It was all I wanted and needed.

"Yeah?" I replied just as softly. I could barely hear our words over the sounds of crickets chirping around us.

"I want to be with you." It was honest, out there. We had been physically intimate, especially during the summer, but never verbally. It was just too hard for me.

"You are with me." I knew that wasn't what she meant.

"Santana." She sat up and looked at me. She was leaning back, her palms bracing her upper body against the trampoline which barely whined under her fluid movements. I pushed myself up and sat cross-legged. "I want to hold your hand in the hallway and take you to dances and stuff."

"Britt," I said. But I couldn't continue. I didn't have words. I stared into those brilliant blue eyes. Those deep, beautiful eyes that were so comforting and I saw all she was feeling. The confusion as to why this wasn't so easy for me, the hurt that I may not want to be with her and the fear of laying everything out in the open.

"Santana it's our last year together."

The words stung. It was our last year of high school, true, but surely not our last year together. We had a lot of time together, we couldn't just be counting down until graduation when we had to kiss each other goodbye and move on. It couldn't work like that. My chest tightened at the thought of saying goodbye to her and my hand went to hers immediately. She squeezed my hand back, sensing my need.

This was why we worked so well together. I understood the depths of Brittany that no one else saw. The kindness and care free ways she had were endearing to me instead of off-putting like it was to others. I saw her for a gentle soul. And she understood me better than I understood myself. She knew what I felt before I did, she knew what I needed and how to fix it. We fit each other perfectly.

Why did we have to ruin it by sharing it with the world. By giving ourselves labels.

"Brittany," I paused, searching for words in the dark sky above me. "I want to be with you more than I've ever wanted anything else in my life." The words were hard to say out loud. I gently let go of her hand and pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. I was really cold all of sudden. I began to shiver. She noticed and moved closer to me. I wish she hadn't. When I was near her I couldn't think straight. Couldn't concentrate. I just needed to touch her. To connect.

"But I can't just let the world see that yet. I'm just now being able to say this to you and you're my best friend. If other people saw what we had they would," I searched for the word. "They would make it ugly with words and actions and I just can't handle that." I looked down, tears filling my eyes. I didn't want to do this right now.

"Santana they can't make this ugly. They can't touch us when we're together." She sounded so genuine. But she didn't get it. Brittany wasn't a child but she had the heart of one. Things like gender and skin color don't matter when you're a kid but as you get older people teach you labels so you can hate. Not everyone saw the world through her colorblind eyes.

"Why do we have to talk about this now?" I looked at her. I was desperate. Tears escaped my eyes and slid down my cheeks. She watched me, a pained expression on her face and she wiped the tears away.

"Because I want to be with you, Santana. I'm done hiding."

There was a finality to her voice that I had never heard before. This was my moment of truth. I couldn't meet her eyes. She got off the trampoline and walked to her house.

I sat there for what felt like years. I felt hollow. I slid off the trampoline and up the porch steps. I slid the sliding glass door back quietly. The house was silent. Asleep. The only light on in the kitchen was the light above the stove. I looked around and saw my purse sitting on the table. Not where I had left it. I slipped my flip-flops on and took the hint.

I left the Pierce household as silently as I could, got into my car, backed out of the driveway and made sure I was out of the neighborhood before I let the tears fall.

* * *

><p>I spent the last few days of the summer getting ready. Sue always had conditioning early in the summer but that didn't mean you got to slack off for the two weeks of free time she gave you. If anything you showed up in better shape than you were at your peak during conditioning.<p>

I jogged every morning and switched my diet back to a more healthy one. I used the exercising to keep me distracted. Brittany and I hadn't talked for three days, a record. It was getting to me. The exercise kept me more than distracted, it gave me an outlet to relieve other tensions I had been getting taken care of elsewhere.

Sex was the best it had ever been with Brittany but it wasn't the sex I missed it was the intimacy. The way I could be at my most vulnerable and it was okay that she was right there with me. The way she could be moving inside of me and causing me to lose control of everything and it not terrify me. The way we could just be content to be near each other after. Not needing to run away like I had with boys.

Still, I would be happier when school started, it would be more of a much needed distraction.

* * *

><p>Cheerios is ridiculous. First off, I'm bumped to co-head with Becky Johnson or whatever. I get that Sue has a soft spot for Becky and so do I because of Brittany's affection for her, but seriously? I've worked my ass off for four years and never been pregnant, unlike Quinn, and I'm still not recognized as top dog? Seriously? It was a fucking joke.<p>

On the bright side Brittany was talking to me again. She was going on and on about working on Kurt's campaign. When I saw her posters I had to do a double take. They were crazy and I knew Kurt would hate them but they were so Brittany and she was so pleased with herself that I couldn't help smile and agree to help her hang them up.

Being with Brittany was the only thing I had to cheer me up. After the stunt I pulled, burning one of the purple piano's, Shue had kicked me out of Glee until I would pledge my loyalties. I was hurt, more so than I thought I would be when I walked out of the choir room. I remembered the sting of tears in my eyes and the tightening in my chest when I realized the one place I had an excuse to close to Brittany was taken away. Cheerios didn't count, it was grueling and there was no alone time.

I wasn't the head cheerleader, Brittany wasn't mine and now I didn't have Glee. I should have known that as soon as it got perfect it would just come crumbling down on top of me.

I hung up a poster and smiled at Brittany. She flashed me her brilliant smile and my heart fluttered. It took nothing for her to make me feel anything and I loved that and feared that about her. I felt like she held my heart right in her hand when we were together and I was terrified she was going to show it off to the world.

Kurt approached us and was horrified. He yelled at Brittany and they exchanged an argument before he stormed off, yelling for us to take the posters down. She looked so crestfallen. I couldn't have that. I couldn't have her so upset when things were just all around horrible. Maybe I was being self, because I just wanted to see her smile, but when I told her she was a unicorn, I sincerely meant it.

Her face brightened up with a smile that was infectious. I felt my lips spread wide. I was grinning like an idiot, but it didn't matter as long as she looked at me like that. She offered her my pinkie and I took it gratefully. My body relaxing at the touch and we went on our way. I knew she was going to Glee club.

I left her at the end of the hall. I couldn't stand to walk to the door and see them all and not be allowed to join. Was Cheerios worth this? I didn't get all the attention in either clubs but at least in Glee I felt…loved. Accepted.

And I had Brittany.

* * *

><p>I was home doing homework. Bored. So bored. I laid my head on my desk and closed my eyes. My phone buzzed on the desk causing me to lurch to attention. My neck ached at the fast movement and I winced. I was going to be so pissed if it was Puck.<p>

Brittany. My heart fluttered. I opened the message.

_Wanna come over? I have an idea and need ur help._

I smiled. I had missed her texting me. Missed being at her house and spending all my free time with her. Cheerios and school kept me busy, but not busy enough. Brittany wasn't just something I could be distracted from. She was a gaping hole when she wasn't there and everything else when she was.

_Be right there._

And I was out the door without a word.

* * *

><p>"So, you wanna run for senior class president?" He face was lit up with the type of enthusiasm Brittany only gets when she has a wonderful idea or when we're about to do a Glee club competition.<p>

"Isn't it a great idea?" She stood up from her bed. She had been sitting on her knees. I was standing at the foot of her bed, arms crossed, looking at her a bit lost.

"Well, yeah, Britt, if you really want to do it." I wasn't sure how to respond. Sure, Brittany was sociable and popular enough but did she really understand what being class president meant? Don't get me wrong. Brittany isn't stupid. Far from it, she's just really, really, really…outside of the box. Very unique and simple in her thinking. Not simpleton thinking, but simple in a way that she doesn't complicate things with all of the baggage the rest of the world does. She accepts them or changes them.

"I do. You know there hasn't been a female president for six years. I looked it up. And the world, like, is in bad shape." I smiled at her. Of course, she had no idea that the lack of a female class president at William McKinley High School had nothing to do with the state of the government or whatever but I didn't have the heart to tell her otherwise.

"You've got my vote Brittany S. Pierce." She smiled. A full smile that made me melt. Her arms enveloped me and I fell into her completely. I needed this, needed her. Needed to touch her and remind myself that everything felt so right when she was near me.

* * *

><p>The flash mob had been all Brittany and it went over flawlessly. Everyone had fun and the amount of support was intoxicating. We were high on her victory all day and when we ended up in her room, blasting the song from her iHome and dancing together we couldn't stop laughing. An angry yell from Mr. Pierce put an end to the music quickly though.<p>

We collapsed on her bed, breathless. Things were good. I had sworn my allegiance to Mr. Shue after deciding being co-head wasn't worth losing Glee Club. Brittany was talking to me again and things between us were returning to normal. I rolled over into her. She instinctively allowed me to nestle into the crook of her arm. My arms were bunched underneath me as I laid half on her. My head on her shoulder, her arm wrapped around me.

She smelled wonderful. Slightly fruity from her shampoo with just a hint of her own scent which was indescribable. She just smelled like Brittany which was intoxicating. I nuzzled into her and could feel her body against me. It felt right. We hadn't been this close since the night on the trampoline.

I hesitated but only for a moment and planted a very soft kiss on her neck. It was all I could really reach at the angle and when she didn't respond except for a tightening of muscles I placed another. Then another. The another. I adjusted myself to where I was laying almost directly on top of her, kissing her neck freely and letting my breath tickle her skin before kissing delicately.

"Oh San," she exhaled into my hair, her warm breath brushing by my ear, causing me to shiver. I kissed up her neck to her jaw line and pulled back. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked at me. I smiled at her then kissed her softly on the lips. She kissed me back with more force than I had anticipated but it only sent a jolt to my lower stomach. We became heated very quickly and I found myself straddling her, trailing sloppy kisses down her neck. I just needed to touch as much of her as I could.

"Stop, San." The words caught me off guard. I continued kissing her collarbone before letting my tongue lightly rake her skin before sucking it between my lips and then kissing her neck again. She moaned and I took that as a sign to continue.

"No, Santana, stop." She pushed me away and I felt myself shut down. I felt something snap in me and I was on high alert. I couldn't look at her. I crawled off of her feeling exposed, naked, and afraid. I just stood there, shaking. I couldn't tell what was causing me to shake but I couldn't stop.

"I can't do this. You're my best friend." She stopped. I didn't know what she was saying. She had just confessed her want to be with me. Now we're just friends?

"What?" I looked at her. She looked flushed and unsure of herself, her words.

"I can't just have sex with you because it feels good, Santana. I want to be with you."

We were back on this.

"And I'm not waiting around forever."

Wait, what? She saw my confusion. She had the right to say it and I understood it. Why should she wait around for me? I was afraid and she could get anyone she wanted but here she was waiting for me to get my shit together and I just couldn't. But it still hurt. All I needed was time.

"I just need more time to work this out, Brittany." My voice was so quiet. I hadn't expected it to be that quiet. I was hugging my arms to my chest. Something was wrong. I was trembling hard and I felt nauseous. I had put myself out there and she had shut me down so fast.

"Santana," she stood up and knew something was wrong. She always knew. "What's the matter?" I made brief eye contact and the tears began flowing freely. She went to pull me to her but I pushed her away, hard. Harder than she had pushed me.

I regretted it immediately. Brittany was trying to be my friend now and I was being cold, something we never were to each other.

I felt something rising in my throat. Was I going to throw up? I picked up my Cheerios bag and slipped on my shoes and ran down the stairs. I could feel her behind me. I could feel her concern and her hurt and it caused my throat to clench.

I heard her parents question something form the kitchen but Brittany shrugged them off and followed me out the door. I had to get away. I was suffocating. The cool air hit me hard and I in haled a choked breath.

"Santana please don't go," I heard the anguish in her voice, the desperation. But I couldn't. I needed to get away. I got into my car and back out of the Pierce driveway without look back. I drove home, gasping, choking on air.

I parked my car, lopsided, in the driveway. I probably shouldn't have been driving with sobs trying to escape my throat but I couldn't concentrate on that. I needed to get somewhere safe and under my comforter was all that came to my head. I shut the door and felt something hot trickle down my face. They were tears. Falling freely. I couldn't stop them. I couldn't stop anything.

Everything was spiraling beyond my control. No, it was worse than that. I was spiraling beyond my control. I needed to be in my bed and just sob. I didn't even try to collect myself when I entered the house. I barged in the door and headed across the foyer and was about to run up the stairs when I heard my mother call from the kitchen. I ignored her but she was there before I realized she was.

"I thought you were at Brittany's?" He voice faltered at my stained face and shaking. "What's the matter?"

I wanted to fall into her arms. It wouldn't be like hugging Brittany, it wouldn't be as sacred but it would be a rare comfort I was allowed to have. There's something about seeing your mom when you feel like you're going to crack into a million pieces that makes you want to stop trying to hold it together and let her do it for you. I wanted that. I wanted my mommy.

But I was Santana Lopez. Apathetic, proud, strong, Santana.

I ignored her and bolted up the stairs to my room. I threw myself on the bed and felt everything go.

The night I had left Brittany's during summer I had cried a bit in the car but knew things would work out. We were never mad at each other for long periods of time. We seemed inseperable. But this was different. This wasn't anger, it was rejection.

And it wasn't just Brittany.

I couldn't do everything. I was so tired of being this person. So tired of being afraid. All I wanted was Brittany and I was covering it up because of what? Because of what happened to Kurt? But everyone was afraid of me. Because of what they would do? I didn't know anymore. I just knew that pretending to be with Karofsky, pretending to be with someone else, sleeping with all those guys, and denying myself who I was had taken it's toll.

Brittany had opened me up to a part of me I never knew existed until she showed me how to feel. She had led me to who I was and had been there supportive never asking for anything, never batting an eye at my selfish behavior. My need to stay private, my need to be hidden. She had nothing but patience when I tried to work through all of my baggage that she easily carried around from me without a word.

All she asked in return was for me to accept myself so she could hold my hand in public and I had denied her that. I had denied myself what I wanted and denied my best friend the love she deserved and now I had nothing but this horrible aching feeling and sobs that wracked my whole body.

I heard my door open. I didn't look up. I balled my fists into the fabric and pulled it into me as I curled up around myself wanting to block out the world. Block out this pain.

"Santana, please, talk to me, sweetie." It was my moms voice. It was strained, like she was trying not to cry.

"What's the matter?" It was my father he was in the doorway.

I couldn't look up at them. I couldn't do anything but sob into the comforter. They must have exchanged silent gestures or glances because nothing was said. I continued to sob, my chest aching. Why wouldn't it stop?

"Is this about a boy?" My mom asked.

I sobbed harder. "No," I croaked out. No stupid boy could elicit this much emotion from me. None ever had. "Brittany."

I had no idea where it came from. But I couldn't keep it in anymore. It was suffocating me. It was causing a tidal wave of emotion to crash into me and each crash would wrack my body with a new sob. I tried to gain control.

"She w-won't wait." They didn't get it. I tried to breath. I pushed myself up on my hands and tried to control my breathing.

I felt my mom move towards me. She put a hand on my shoulder. I was so grateful for the contact. I couldn't stop my chest from hitching. I was half gasping, half choking sobs, trying to breath somewhere in between.

"What won't she wait for, Santana?" It was my mom.

"Me." I whispered. I wasn't sure if they heard me or not. But my father spoke up.

"You spend far too much time with that girl. She shouldn't have this much control over how you feel." He sounded unsure. Stern. Like he wanted to help but wanted me to understand something.

I gulped air down, greedily trying to stabilize.

"What do you mean?" My mother had heard me. She spoke softly and was rubbing my back.

"She won't wait for me, mommy." It was all I could say. I pulled myself towards her and rested my head in her lap. I needed some comfort. I needed something.

"Wait for you to what?" She stroked my hair and I could feel myself coming down. My breathing was almost controlled but still erratic enough to cause me to shudder every once in a while.

I felt the words tumble out. With the admission new tears formed and began to fall into my moms lap. "I-I'm afraid. She isn't and," I breath in and hiccupped. "I'm the s-strong one and I'm afraid of what will -hhappen." I paused and let the cries wrack my body, the words were literally falling out of my mouth as fast as they could but I didn't care anymore. I felt like if I didn't get this out of me the pressure would cause my chest to explode.

I didn't feel the air change. The tension shift. I didn't see my dads jaw tighten or my mom look worried.

"I'm in love with her." My heart felt light as if someone had just removed a block of steel from my shoulders. "I'm in love with her but I'm afraid to openly be with her. I'm afraid of what will be said but I can't be without her. I can't." The trembling returned.

The room was silent. I was reflecting, calming my breathing. My mom patted me gently and stood up, making sure to take care with moving my head to a pillow. She kissed my head and rubbed the hair that had plastered to my forehead during my episode aside.

They left without saying a word. I sat in silence stunned at how easy what I had just done was. It felt so good to just say it, to just be out that I started to feel like I had been a coward for no reason. That I had been so stupid. I felt the tears well up again and didn't try to stifle them. I let them come. They were different, they weren't anguish filled cries that caused me to convulse, they were silent and I'm pretty sure they were happy.

Eventually I drifted off asleep.

* * *

><p>The bang jerked me awake. My eyes snapped open I pulled myself into a sitting position as fast as I could. I looked around, terrified of what had made that sound. My father was in the doorway. He had slammed the door open. He was looking at me. His jaw tight.<p>

"We need to talk." His tone was harsh. Accusatory. My heart began to pound. I loved my father. He spoiled me and over looked my behavior because I was a Cheerio and made good enough grades. He had never talked to me like this and I was terrified.

"What did you mean?"

I looked at him for a second, unsure. "What?" It came out as a croak and I swallowed a few times trying to bring some moisture to my throat. "What do you mean, what did I mean?"

My mother appeared in the door. She looked lost. Like she didn't know where to turn to.

"When you said you loved her."

My heart clenched. I had felt so good, relieved, free. Now here it was. The backlash I knew had to be there. The reason all my secrecy could be justified. But I remembered vividly the feeling of those sobs wracking my body. I couldn't lie anymore. Especially to myself.

"I said I was in love with her."

There was silence. It felt so thick I almost wanted to reach out and grab at it. See if I could hold onto it. See if I could hold onto anything. I knew something bad was coming. My stomach twisted.

"You love her."

"I'm love with her and I want to date her. I'm a lesbian."

The word felt dirty. It didn't fit right in my mouth. It was a label I had been avoiding and now that I said it I realized I still didn't like it. Lesbians always came across differently than how I felt. I may be attracted to women, I may be in love with a woman, but I didn't feel like a lesbian. Maybe that was residual fear?

I looked from my mother to my father, waiting. Heart pounding.

"Get out."

He said it so quietly I wasn't sure I heard him.

"Get. Out." He raised his voice. "Get out!"

I just sat there, staring. "Daddy?" It came out as a whimper. I saw his face harden.

"I can't have this deviance in my household, Santana, you can come home when you make better choices."

I felt a weight on my chest. A weight I thought I had lifted hours ago with my hysterical break down. I felt tears well in my eyes when I was pretty sure there was no way I had any left to give. I got up slowly and brushed off my Cheerios uniform. It was all I had and I didn't feel like I could stay here another second.

"Those keys are mine." I had just picked up my car keys from the bowl on the side table.

There was silence. I put the keys down and didn't turn to look at them. I couldn't believe this was happening.

I grabbed my purse from the table by the door as I left and didn't even bother to shut it behind me.

I wanted more than anything call Brittany but something stopped me. I wanted my best friend, not my lover Brittany. I wanted her to let me cry to her and crash at her house while I figured out my next move but I knew Brittany wasn't an option. I knew I couldn't use her anymore and drag her down with me. What if her parents found out about from my parents and kicked her out too? Then where would we be? She would hate me. Forget wanting to date me she'd never want to see my face again. There was absolutely no way I could call her.

I thought of all the other people I could call.

Quinn? No way. She was dealing with baby drama and I couldn't let her see me this torn up.

Puck? I'd probably have to sleep with him.

I drew a blank. That was it. Besides Brittany I had no one and now that I actually didn't have Brittany I realized how truly alone I was. I felt my stomach churn and my knees buckle. I fell to the concrete on my hands and knees and dry heaved. I had been crying so much I felt queasy. My cheeks burned, my knees and palms were scraped from the concrete, I was shaking from all the emotions spinning inside of my head and my chest felt like it was going to cave in on itself.

Honestly? All I wanted to do was sleep.

All I had in my purse was my wallet, some gum, make up, my phone, a hand mirror, a comb, and some random knick knacks that Brittany had stuck in there. The thought of her caused my stomach to twist. I wanted her now more than ever. That wasn't an option. I had to keep telling myself that so I wouldn't run to her and cause her as much stress as I was feeling.

A thought struck me. Mr. Shue. When he was going through his divorce he had slept in the school. There were showers in the locker rooms and there may not be beds but it was better than walking around all night. I checked my phone. It was 10:37.

I began walking.

The school was in sight. I checked my phone, it read: 11:03. I felt like I was dead. I kept on walking because I couldn't not walk. What other choice did I have? I was so tired. I wanted to curl into a ball and cry. But I couldn't right now. I was cold and weak and exposed. I needed somewhere to sleep.

I made it to the front entrance of the school and pushed on the doors, relieved.

They didn't budge.

I wanted to scream.

Why would they, school was closed. I had been so stupid. "So fucking stupid," I said to the air. My voice sounded groggy and scratchy. I looked around unsure of what to do. I was stranded, alone, with no one to go to.

How had it come to this?

I just started walking again. I wasn't sure where I was going. I let my feet carry and my mind wander. I thought of Brittany at home, curled up in her warm bed. I wished I was there with her. Just to have her arms wrapped around me. Just so I could feel next to me. Nothing sexual, just to know I wasn't alone.

I stopped walking. The football field. Of course. I looked at the empty field, then to the bleachers. I walked around them. They were empty underneath. The wind was blocked out and no one came here at least until the first lunch bell. I went to the end farthest away from the school and tried to tuck myself in between the bleachers and a pillar, using my purse as a pillow.

The concrete was freezing and uncomfortable. My teeth began to chatter immediately and I knew I wasn't going to be able to sleep. My mind was racing, my head was pounding. I was so cold but I had a headache and I felt like my face was on fire. I started crying again.

I don't remember when I fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2 Free Fall

**A/N:** I already have up to about chapter four written, so I'll be updating more frequent in the beginning of this story. I want to space out the chapters a bit in case I get stuck later. I know the last chapter was long but this one is a bit shorter. It's also, hopefully, less choppy. First chapter was a set up, this is now starting where I want to go with Santana. I own none of this. Obligatory disclosure/lame

**Chapter 2: Free Fall**

_Her hand slid down my stomach softly. I felt the skin jump at her touch and my body beg for her to keep sliding her hand down, keep touching me everywhere. Not to stop. I heard her giggle. She planted a soft kiss below my belly button and I groaned. She was too much, always too much. I flung an arm over my face, the crook of my elbow covering my eyes. I couldn't looks. I had to squeeze them shut to concentrate on not moaning loudly every time her feather soft lips touch my skin._

_Her lips were upward. I desperately wanted them to head in the other direction but I didn't question it. She kissed her way up to my lips and stopped. I felt her body hovering over me. She adjusted herself. Her legs were on either side of my stomach and she was sitting on her knees. Her very warm core just inches from my skin. I wanted her to grind into me._

_I looked up at her. She just smiled at me._

"_What, Britt?" I watched her face change. The grin became manic and crazed. Her face contorted and I was terrified. Her mouth opened impossibly wide and she lunged towards me._

I jerked awake. My body lifted up and I smacked my head on the underside of a bleacher, hard. I felt tears well immediately as I fell back onto my purse pillow and moaned. A way different one than the dream had just played out for me.

My body was sore. The ground beneath me was sore. I felt like I had just woken from a horrible dream. I mean, I had just woken from a horrible dream about Brittany but I felt like life was just now real and everything before had only been an odd fantasy. I opened my eyes which were still watering. I saw the underside of the bleachers and felt the cool concrete beneath my warm skin.

No dream. It all flooded back, hitting me like a freight train. My parents asking me to leave, my walk to school, my loneliness. I just laid there looking that the bleachers. I felt weak and sore from walking and sleeping on the concrete. I felt bothered in more than a few ways and different places from my dream and I felt heavy, even though I had to have shed at least three pounds of water weight from the amount of tears produced last night. I couldn't cry today. I just couldn't. I had nothing left to offer the world.

All I really wanted was a bed to crawl into and sleep in forever.

I pushed myself up gently, using the dull ache in my forehead as caution to not move too fast and hit my head on the bleachers again. I crawled out into more open space and stood up slowly. Very slowly. I used the pillar I had slept behind for support and stretched. It felt good but I felt sore. I bent for my purse and checked my phone. It was 5:57.

What time did school open?

I had no idea but I knew I needed a shower, knew there were towels in the Cheerio specific locker room. Knew I could wash away some of the horrible feelings from last night with hot water and soap. Thank god for Cheerios. It was the first time I actually thought that. They had their own showers and because Sue always made us wear our uniforms I didn't have to worry about people wondering why I was in the same clothes. Sure, my spare clean uniform was at home, but this one couldn't be too bad, could it?

I brushed away some dirt and small rocks from the uniform and tried to examine it in the half light. No go. I would just have to clean it off in light and hope no one noticed. Thankfully, practice didn't start for another week. All I had to do was show up to try outs tomorrow and I'd be golden. I could totally manage this until I found somewhere to stay or...whatever.

A shower first, everything else later.

* * *

><p>I was actually surprised to find a side door open. Maybe it was open from last night? Maybe I was just lucky. I didn't question it. I snuck through the halls. The school was eerily quiet. I heard a janitor humming to a tune on his radio before I actually saw him. He was right in my way. I needed to get to the locker rooms in the gym which was just down the hall and around a corner.<p>

My heart started hammering. If he saw me he would ask questions. I couldn't have people seeing how things were right now. I needed to sort this on my own. But how could I get past him?

Wait, how could I not? I'm Santana Lopez, everyone fears me. Better yet, everyone fears Sue.

I mustered up a glare on my face and sauntered into the hall, not even acknowledging the janitors existence. My heart began to pound as I got close to him. This wouldn't work. Yes, it would, it had to.

When I passed him I saw him move out of my peripherals but kept walking.

"Hey," he called. I kept going.

"Stop." It rang through my ears. I stopped and felt my heart skip a beat. I could do this I turned.

"What?" It was as snarky as I could manage.

"You can't be here this early." He eyed my uniform wearily.

This was going to be too easy.

"Tell you what, jumpsuit. I'm gonna pretend you didn't just try to tell me what to do. I'm head cheerleader." I couldn't bring myself to use the 'co' that belonged in front of that. "Coach Sylvester wanted me to get her the sign up sheet and set up the gym for Cheerios try-outs." I stopped talking and crossed my chest. Hopefully he didn't know try-outs were tomorrow...after school.

"Aren't those after school?" He looked at me hard as if trying to figure out what I was up to.

_Shit. Lie fast._

"Preliminaries. Why don't you focus on windex and floor waxing and I'll focus on what I'm good at. Doing my job as head cheerleader. Unless you want to take this up with Coach Sylvester?" I let my scowl penetrate him. I held eye contact, daring him to go to her. I was terrified he would, but I couldn't back down.

"I, uh, I must have missed it, go ahead." Her returned to his sweeping.

"Uh-huh." I started sauntering away. Walking slowly, trying not to break into a panicked run. As soon as I turned the corner though, I did. I bolted for them gym, pushed through the double doors and tore around the bleachers. I didn't stop until I was in the Cheerios locker room.

I let out a breath and was panting slightly. I wasn't out of breath, I was just breathless from the adrenaline that had begun pumping through me when my heart rate shot up. I leaned my head against a locker and sighed. The coolness of the metal sent chills down my spine but cooled my ever growing head ache.

I looked around at the big empty locker room. It was red in the WMHS spirit. There were rows of lockers and at the end of the lockers a wall waist high that separated the showers from the rest of the locker room. They were stalls, for privacy. There were towels stacked on top of a a shelf built on the the side of the half wall that was facing the lockers. I wanted one so badly, just to hold something soft to my sore skin.

I opened my locker and looked at the contents. Some sweats, another brush, nothing really helpful. My spare Cheerios uniform was at the dry cleaners. I was stuck with this one. I shut it.

I walked to the half wall and grabbed a towel, after a second thought I grabbed another. The shower stalls were designed almost like two stalls. If you walked into one and shut the door you were in a changing area. One either side of the stall walls there were benches and hooks high above them for clothing. I spread one of the towels over the bench and sad down. I undid my shoes and pulled them off, putting them on the opposite wall next to my purse. I hated being barefoot in the showers at school but I didn't have a choice.

I stripped myself gingerly from the cheer uniform, unzipping the top and pulling it off slowly. I hung it on the hook on the opposite wall. I unclasped my bra and hung it with it. I pulled down the skirt of my uniform gently. My fall on the side walk had left raw skin that stung at the slightest touch. I stepped out of them. Gingerly I pulled down my underwear. I felt exposed. It was a horrible feeling. Every time I have to get undressed outside the confines of my room I feel afraid. I'm just as sensitive about my body as other girls even if I know I'm hot.

I slid the shower curtain back and stepped into the actual shower part of the stall. I turned the water on and jumped to the side. I always did this. I needed hot showers, even in summer, I hated cold water on my skin. I felt the cool water with my hand and waited for it to warm up. The cold water pooling at my feet and the spray from the shower caused me to shiver. It was soon warm and I stepped under the spray.

A shower. Something so normal. It felt wonderful.

If I could keep doing normal things, I would be fine.

* * *

><p>After the shower I stood wrapped in a towel in front of the giant mirror above the five sinks in the locker room. I stared at myself. I felt so different. So much had happened, so much had been put in the open and had come back to bite me hard. Maybe if I explained what happened to Brittany she would understand and give being together privately a chance.<p>

No, I couldn't pull her with me. I had decided that last night.

I checked my phone. 6:32. I had a lot of work to do before people starting show up in an hour and I didn't have nearly the tools I needed.

I ran my fingers through my hair and tried to brush out the slight tangles. I wasn't going to be able to straighten my hair. It would curl and become thick and barely manageable, but I'd pull it off as a new look. Sue hated hair that wasn't sleek and pulled back into a high pony. I'd find a way to deal with it long term later, though.

My make up was another thing. I looked in my purse. I had basics, I could make myself look presentable, but not my normal standard. I looked at my Cheerio uniform. There were a few dirt stains on the white. I sighed. So much to do, so little time.

Thankfully, I always brought a spare. I slide the underwear up my thighs and then my cheer shorts. I did a turn in the mirror. They were fine. I had gotten the slight scuffings of dirt off of them easily enough. I put my bra back on. I had been ecstatic when I found the spare deodorant in the back of my locker, which I had turned upside down looking for anything that would help me.

I needed to feel clean at all times. I showered every morning and after cheer practice. I applied deodorant like it was going out of style and I brushed my teeth at least twice a day and always had gum. My shoulders sagged. I didn't have a tooth brush. I hated not brushing my teeth. I grabbed the towel and ran water over it. I tried scrubbing my teeth with it, but it just left my gums sore and my mouth feeling dry. I popped two pieces of the winter fresh into my mouth and chewed wildly.

Today was going to suck.

But I had bigger fish to fry. A particularly big stain was smudged across my uniform. I had scrubbed it off as best I could but the uniform didn't look pristine. It was a bit gray and looked worn. Sue would not approve and she would notice. She always noticed.

I put it on anyway and fiddled with my make up. I felt self-conscious and dirty. I felt weak and exhausted. I wanted to just go lay down somewhere soft. There was no way I could make it through the day.

I walked out of the locker room and into the empty gym. I snuck into the hall. There were students everywhere. I felt like they all turned to look at me even though only one or two did. It was 7:30, classes started in half an hour. I felt a little relieved, the people who looked at me looked away. I was fine, no one would notice anything.

People feared me anyway. This could work.

I could make it work.

* * *

><p>My first class was English. I sat in my usual seat in the back and zoned out. My hand was under my chin, elbow braced against the desk, holding my head up. I was so tired. I fought to keep my eyes open, shaking my head every one in a while but couldn't. I drifted off and was woken up by a loud noise.<p>

The teacher had barked at me and I had jumped. Apparently I had been sleeping.

"Santana, I'm sorry your find _The Five People You Meet in Heaven _boring, but please try not to distract us with your...whimpering." She looked at me, miffed. I didn't blame her. But what did she mean by whimpering? People snickered. I shot angry glares at the people closest to me and they stopped immediately.

"Can I be excused?" I tried to ask without any venom but it shot through my words out of habit. I just needed to get out of here. Why was I whimpering? This wasn't good.

"When my lecture is over."

I rolled my eyes, stood up, grabbed my purse and left. I felt an intake of breath from students and mumbles. You didn't just leave class. Sure, we did it in Glee all the time, but that was different. Mr. Shue listened and understood us and knew that sometimes you just needed space.

I stepped into the hallway and shut the door behind me a little harder than I wanted to. Sometime something inside me took over. Sometimes I couldn't help but say means things or do things. It wasn't that I didn't have control, it was just I couldn't let everyone see me. I needed for them to fear me.

The hallways were empty. I didn't know where to go, so I went to the choir room. Glee was next anyway. It's not like anyone was using it. The door was shut, but unlocked. I walked in.

I felt at home.

I went up the three steps to the top row of chairs and pushed four together. I laid on my back. It was uncomfortable but I needed more sleep. I couldn't be found whimpering. I let my mind wander and was almost instantly asleep.

* * *

><p>Someone was shaking my shoulder gently. I snapped awake. It was Mr. Shue. He was looking at me concerned. I sat up fast and almost tumbled off of the chairs. "Whoa, Santana, you're okay." He put a stabilizing hand on me. He was kneeling so we were at eye level. "What are you doing here?"<p>

"Where is everyone?" My voice was dry and sounded horrible. I rubbed my hand over my mouth and rubbed my eyes. It felt like I had just blinked. No time should have passed.

"Well, in first period, I hope." He looked at me, waiting for me to make the next move. I looked down at the floor, my mouth was slightly open, I felt my forehead scowling.

"What time is it?" I looked up at him. He was close to me, looking concerned, being a good teacher, a mentor, like always. I wanted more than anything to wrap my arms around his neck and cry. I knew he'd let me. I knew he wouldn't let me down like my own father had.

I choked back a sob. His expression changed. "Santana, what's wrong?" He put a hand on my shoulder.

"The time." I was blinking back tears but they fell anyway.

"Uh, he looked at his watch 8:58." He didn't push me to answer his questions, he just gently squeezed my shoulder and waited for me.

"Shit," I said, panicking. My chest tightened. Class would be getting out any second and I was a mess. I looked up at Mr. Shue. He ignore the swear and smiled at me, trying to be warm.

"I need..." I trailed off. I had no idea what I needed.

The bell rang. My body went rigid. "I can't..."

"It's okay," he said. "You can go straighten yourself up in my office. But promise me you'll go talk to Ms. Pillsbury. Or we can talk after class?" He leaned his head down, trying to catch my eye. I nodded.

Lie. I wasn't going to talk to anyone.

I got up and went to the office in the choir room. I shut the door. The windows were clear but the door wasn't. I leaned against it and felt the cries trying to push through. I forced them down as I slid to the floor. I tried to dry my eyes as fast as I could.

People were in the choir room. I heard talking, laughter. One bright laughed peeled away from the others. I knew it was Brittany's. If I saw her I was going to snap. More tears bubbled up.

No. Pull your shit together Santana. You can do this. I mentally slapped myself with the words and felt my resolve strengthen.

"Okay guys," I heard Mr. Shue say as he clapped his hands together. The bell rang. Had it been that long already? I needed to get control soon.

"First I just want to say congratulations to those of you who got a role in West Side Story. Rachel, Blaine, Mike, you guys will be wonderful." There was a smattering of applause and light cheers.

"What about Santana?" It was Brittany. "She's Anita."

Fuck, I had completely forgotten about West Side Story.

"Yeah, where is she?" It was Quinn who asked.

"Well," Rachel began. She was probably about to avert the attention back to her. I thanked her for that, enough about me. "I heard she fell asleep in her English class and was...whimpering. The teacher woke her up and Santana asked to be excused. When the teacher said no she overturned a desk and stormed from the classroom."

I was glad that the rumor didn't make me seem pathetic. Overturning a desk was something I wouldn't do, but people, besides Brittany and possibly Quinn, wouldn't think otherwise.

"Okay, let's focus, guys. While the musical is going to be great and we're all proud of our teammates who are and aren't here" I felt gratitude for Mr. Shue rush through me. How could I have ever have been mean to him? He was still on my side after everything I had done. All of the guys out there were. They were my only family. This was my only home.

I needed to pull it together.

"...we also need to offer a congratulations to all of the people in Booty camp who have been working hard and getting a lot better."

I heard another smattering of applause. Everyone laughed. Someone must have done something funny. I stood up and dried my eyes. I stepped out of the office while there was still commotion. The room went almost completely silent and everyone looked at me. I didn't make eye contact. I picked a spot on the wall and headed to where I had been laying down. The chairs had been moved around and spread apart but my purse was sitting beside one. Brittany was sitting beside it.

I walked behind the chairs instead of in front like I normally would and took a seat slowly.

"So this weeks assignment," Mr. Shue began before anyone could question me.

I zoned out almost immediately. My heart was thumping. I felt bad ignoring him after what he had done for me but I couldn't concentrate, I was so tired and I knew I looked it. Brittany leaned in and I felt her breath tickle my ear. "Are you okay? I wish you hadn't left last night."

My chest tightened. I didn't want to talk to her. I would spill everything. It was so hard keeping anything from her and I knew she felt the same way. I looked at her, concern was covering her face and something else I couldn't read. She was biting her lip.

"I'm fine. I need to concentrate." I said it softly with no malice or venom. I wanted her to think we were fine and there wasn't anything that needed working on.

I had no idea what the assignment was and couldn't concentrate on it enough to even try to invest anything. I sat there and nodded. People were talking in groups then Rachel was lecturing the class. But I just couldn't pull out of myself. I felt trapped in my body.

When the bell rang I was the first one out the door. I felt multiple pairs of eyes on me. I knew at least two were Brittany and Mr. Shue.

* * *

><p>The next three classes flew by and when it was my turn to go to lunch I realized I was famished. I needed food even if it was horrible cafeteria food. I stepped out of the line, there was a burger on my plate. I knew Sue would kill me but I couldn't help myself. I felt like I needed something unhealthy or I would die. Which made no sense, but a burger was substantial.<p>

I looked for my friends. They were easy to spot. Something about them was different than the rest of the student body. They were okay with themselves, with each other. They didn't lie or try to be someone else. It was something I always envied in them, especially Kurt. I could see him sitting next to Blaine, smiling. I could see Rachel and Finn talking, well, Rachel talking and Finn listening. I saw Brittany sitting in Artie's lap...

My heart seemed to stop. The room went silent. She tapped his nose playfully and wrapped her arms around his neck. He hugged her back, smiling like he had when they dated. I turned around. I set my tray on the table closest to me and I left the lunch room.

I walked purposefully, refusing to stop.

I left the school. I walked and I walked. Not sure where I was going but knowing that after everything that had happened, after everything I had been through there was now way that I had lost her just like that, after one argument. There was no way I could take anymore school today.

**A/N: ** I know these seem long, I just can't help it. Once I get into writing in Santan'a head I just keep going, I want to flesh her out and see what I can do with her. I think this is still too rushed. I'm really trying to go slow. Maybe I'll go back and edit more later. But I figure I should get it out while I can. Reviews are appreciated, especially feedback on my concerns. This chapter isn't even half of what I wanted to happen, so I just shortened it. Hopefully there's enough going on to keep you interested!

Also, having trouble with formatting the story. I don't know if anyone else is irked but I am. I think it's the crazy in me.


	3. Chapter 3 Holidays Turned Getaways

**A/N: **So, it's been bothering me all day that I forgot to thank you guys for reading and reviewing my story. Being an avid reader on here I know how much authors appreciate a review and I am so very appreciative of your reviews and messages. Sincerely. So as a belated thank you, here's chapter three. I hope you like it and thank you again.

**Chapter 3: Holidays Turned Getaways**

It was just enough to push me over the edge. I had ditched school a few times but that was to be cool. It was never because I didn't want to be there. Why wouldn't I want to go to school? I had...had everything. Now that it was all gone, now that I was so lost in a life that had seemed perfect, I couldn't stand to be there especially if Brittany was going to be sitting in Artie's lap again.

I had no where to go and nothing with me except for my purse. I needed to assess the situation. My parents had taken my car, what else did they have control over? I thought about it. My bank account, I had to open it with my mother. There was only about four hundred dollars in it. As much as I loved having nice things, that had always been an expense for daddy. If I went out someone bought food or drinks for me. I never spent money, I never had to. I felt like if I didn't get to the money they would.

To the bank.

It took what felt like years. I didn't even bother to check my phone. Every time I touched it I got the urge to call Brittany to come get me. I was pretty sure she had sent me more than a few text messages about missing Glee.

I stood outside the bank, clutching the stitch at my side. When I had calmed my breathing and didn't feel like I looked a wreck, I strode in, head high. The cool air of the room hit me hard and felt amazing against my overheated skin. I took a deep breath and approached the woman behind the counter.

I felt awkward in my Cheerios uniform as if I didn't fit in. In school I owned everything and everyone knew it. Here I wasn't taken seriously at all for my accomplishments.

"Can I help you?" The older woman smiled at me.

"I need to empty my bank account."

Her face faltered for a second. "Okay, what's your account number?"

_Well shit._

I should know that one, but I didn't. I thought for a second.

"Okay," she said it slowly. She wasn't treating me like I was stupid, but like I was just having an off day. I appreciated that. "What about an ID?"

I could do that one. I must have looked relieved because she smiled at me genuinely. I smiled back, something I rarely offered people, ever. At least, people who weren't Brittany. I wanted her to smile at me. I wanted someone to give me anything, any affection or attention. I felt starved.

I pulled my license out of my purse and handed it to her. She took it and looked over her glasses at the computer screen. Back and forth.

"Alright Ms. Lopez," she said lightly. "You want to empty your account?"

"Yes," I said it with as little emotion as possible. Like nothing was wrong. I kept waiting for her to tell me I needed a parent or guardian to be with me. I held my breath.

"Okay, you have a balance of $328.45. You want to take it all?" She looked at me expectantly.

"Um," I thought about it. That seemed like a lot less than I had anticipated, but it didn't matter. Who knew when my parents would think to start taking things from me. They already had my car. My father was cold. He wouldn't stop until I made the ultimate sacrifice, until I denied my love for Brittany and came back begging and I just couldn't do that.

"All of it but the change." She nodded.

* * *

><p>It felt like I was rich. One hundred, two fifties, six twenties, one five, three ones. That felt like a lot of money. I don't think I had ever even held a hundred dollar bill of my own. With the money in hand the first thing I wanted to do was rush to the mall and buy something, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Something nagged at the back of my mind, urging me to conserve my resources.<p>

I had to face it. I was homeless, hungry, had no clothing or transportation and this was all the money I had until who knows when. It was terrifying to think of. I couldn't be this empty handed. I knew what I had to do.

The walk home felt like it took only seconds. Sure, I was closer to the bank than I was to the school, but it still should have taken longer. I was scared. No one would be home though. My dad owned his own practice and my mother was a secretary and glorified cataloger at a dentist office. She didn't get home until five. It wasn't even three. I was safe.

I stood on the front porch looking at the house. A shiver slid down my body and caused goosebumps to erupt on my skin. This place didn't feel like home anymore. It felt cold.

I had to go in.

My keys were probably still sitting on the table inside the door. I knew where the spare was. Tucked into the top right corner of the potted plant on the left side of the garage. I brushed the dirt off and pushed the key into the lock. I turned and entered my parents house.

Everything looked exactly the same.

Why should it be different? It had been less than twenty four hours since I had been kicked out. Just because I felt so different didn't actually mean things were that different. The house did seem bigger, though. I looked at the side table and saw that my keys weren't there.

I headed up the stairs quickly. I had that feeling you get when you're walking in the dark and you know there's no one there but you have to run, need to, so maybe you could outrun your fear. I did run the last few steps to my room. My heart was hammering. I needed to get out of here fast. I grabbed my cheerios duffel bag from my closet.

First off, I needed to think. This was all I was going to be able to have with me. I'd have to lug my bag to classes, to where I stayed, it had to carry everything. My books could stay in my locker at school, which is where they stayed most of the time anyway.

I put the bag on my bed and dumped the contents of my purse out beside it. I didn't want to carry it anymore. I felt like if I was weighed down it would hinder me somehow. I put my license, and a few items to the side, I would take them with me.

I went to my closet and threw the doors open. There were so many clothes. I looked to the shelf above the clothes. There were a few lap blankets. I grabbed the flattest one, folded it to fit into the shape of my bag and set it in the bottom. It took up space, but not too much. Next I put in three sweatshirts. It would be getting colder soon. I could feel it. I put five pairs of jeans and double the shirts.

It was hard. I had to push my vanity aside. I had a very distinct look. I liked dressing a certain way but I was being forced to make things simple. The bag was almost full. I looked at the closet, letting my vanity get the best of me before stuffing the article of clothing into the side of the bag.

I didn't want it to look full or be too heavy. I picked it up, it felt fine, not that heavy at all. It was just clothes but I felt like it should weigh a ton. I went to my bathroom and grabbed shampoo, conditioner, a toothbrush, and toothpaste. I put the items in the side pouch of the bag along with the brush from my purse, my make up and wallet had made it in there as well. I looked around the room. I grabbed my phone charger and pushed it into the bag.

That was it. I zipped it up and let it rest on my shoulder. I stood in the doorway and looked around the room. It felt very small and so did I.

I shut the door and flew down the stairs. At the bottom I looked at the front door. I wasn't quite ready.

I needed food. I was starving. I put my Cheerios duffel on the counter. I grabbed some apples and an orange from the fruit bowl on the counter. I opened the fridge and looked for something I could take with me. Tortillas. I loved them, especially eating just the tortilla. They were filling and tasted wonderful. I pulled the bag out of the fridge, debating on how many to take. I had just decided that, screw it, I was taking all of them. I put the food on the top of everything else and zipped the bag up.

"Santana?"

I looked up, startled. I felt trapped, like an animal. My heart pounded, my head reeled. It was a horrible feeling. I wanted to jump, snarl, react instinctively. It was my mother. She stood there looking at me. Purse slung over her arm. I couldn't think of anything to say to her. I wanted to run into her arms but I knew that wasn't an option.

"I'm leaving." I put the bag on my shoulder again and walked around the counter, past her. I slowed my pace. I wanted her to call after me. I wanted her to stop me and say she was sorry. I would be okay with that. I would be okay with this just being an overreaction, a misunderstanding. I wanted them to love me again more than anything.

"Your father will be home soon. It's best you do." She spoke the words quietly to my back. I thought I heard her voice crack, but I couldn't turn around. She had hurt me to my core. There was no going back.

* * *

><p>The cab driver would be confused. I had asked him to wait for me. I'm pretty sure he was still waiting. Who says no to a hot teenager in a short skirt? I applied the last of my make up. There. I looked at myself in the mirror. I was hot. I was glad I had grabbed the black cocktail dress and heels to match. If I was going down I was going to do in style and with a bang.<p>

I left the bathroom and walked to the cab. Of course he was still waiting. Why wouldn't he? I saw his eyes widen in the rear view mirror when I got into the back seat. I stared in the mirror and I smirked, eye brow cocked.

"Where to?" He looked to the road then back to the mirror.

I had just the place.

* * *

><p>Someone had mentioned it at a party that Britt and I had gone to. It was supposed to be very exclusive and full of good booze and hot guys. There was a roped off line leading to the entrance. I pushed myself into the crowd. I had money in my bra, but only $10. That was just to get in. I was hoping I wouldn't have to spend it, that I could slip right past the people at the door by squeezing in the group. It's not that I minded to pay, I was just afraid that someone would ask to check my ID and they would send me away. I would be humiliated. I needed to get inside and let my hair down.<p>

I needed anything to distract me.

When I neared the entrance I looked at the bouncer letting people in. He was very tall and tanned. I looked at him and smiled coyly. He looked at me as he took money from people in front of me. When it was my turn he stamped my wrist and winked at me. I felt his hand brush against my lower back and down and my body went rigid.

I didn't want to be touched. But I let it slide and walked in. I was in, it had cost me a moment of unease. Now there was a dance floor and a bar at my disposal.

I walked to the bar and pulled myself up on a stool. The guys next to me immediately turned their attentions towards me. We bantered, but they were all talk. They didn't even offer to buy me a drink and I brushed them off.

One guy asked me to dance. He spent thirty seconds grinding against me. I stopped him and moved away. I found one guy who danced really well. He held me close at the right point and spun me away even though the music was club music. He was graceful. When the dance was over he winked at me and headed to a group of guys. I was going to follow but saw him plant a kiss on the lips of another guy.

Of course.

I watched as my dancing partner draped his arms around the other guy. They were so open and everyone around them was okay. Of course, I wasn't in Lima. You couldn't find anywhere like this in Lima. I had taken a cab into the city.

I hated him. Not for getting my hopes up of getting attention but for being so open with someone. For having that intimacy and for being allowed to show his special brand of love in public. I wanted Brittany.

I needed a drink.

I sat at the bar and ordered a shot of anything. I downed it. It stung all the way down. "How much is that?" I called over the music.

"It's on me," said a voice from behind me. A man moved next to me and took the bar stool beside me. He smiled at me. I smiled back. _Hello there._

He was definitely not a guy. He was a man. He smelled amazing and I could tell he was fit under his jacket and button up gray shirt. His hair was dark but had white starting in it. Something that creeped me out on most guys but just fit right in with this one.

"Mark," he said giving me a hand.

"Santana." I took it, he squeezed gently, reassuring and smile at me warmly.

"Thanks..." I was awkward, rusty. I dealt with high school boys and lately I had only been with Brittany and that was easy. It's one of the things I loved about her, things were never complicated.

_Stop thinking about her._

"For the shot." I motioned to the glass.

He nodded and swirled his own drink in his hand which he looked down at. "Of course." We were talking really loudly. The DJ, as if reading my mind, ended the blaring party rock song that was playing switched to something slower, still a club song, but quieter at least.

"You looked like you needed it." He took a swig of his own drink.

"You have no idea."

He chuckled and it shook his chest. I decided I liked Mark. He was warm. "Want another, Santana? What an interesting name, by the way."

"Sure thing." I winked at him. He smiled and ordered me another shot.

Two shots later I was feeling really warm.

"Oh god, Mark, I think I should stop." I was feeling really buzzed. Whatever he kept ordering for me was strong. I stood up and wobbled. He grabbed my elbow. His hand was firm, slightly calloused. I let him hold me up.

"Yeah, looks like you've had enough for now." I saw him slip a bill to the bartender who nodded enthusiastically.

We had spent the last few minutes talking and laughing. Mark was funny and sweet. He listened to me. If only all guys were like this, maybe I could get into it. Still, I saw that Mark was good looking, fit, but I didn't feel any attraction towards him. In fact, the more intoxicated I became the more unattractive he became to me. Not in a bad way, he just wasn't Brittany and I needed her.

I groaned. I felt sick. "Hey now," he said putting an arm around me. "Let's get fresh air."

I nodded and let his strong arms guide me towards the other end of the club. But I had come from that way, the opposite way.

He pushed opened a door and I walked through. The cold air hit me hard and I gasped. My face felt hot. I walked into the middle of the alley way and inhaled deeply. I braced myself on my knees which began to quiver. I felt nauseous. Very nauseous. Had I eaten today? I remembered my discarded burger. I missed it terribly. I giggled at the thought. My bag of packed goods from home was tucked under the bleachers, waiting for my return.

Mark had a hold of me. "Whoa there girl. Maybe you had a bit too much. Sorry about that."

"No worries. Just too much too fast and I feel sick." I stumbled a a bit trying to readjust my weight. Mark pulled me up straight. I looked at him. I didn't want to sleep with this guy. He was too kind, I couldn't use him, I just wanted some type of comfort. Any kind. I wanted to go home.

I leaned into him and wrapped my arms around his chest, below his arms. The top of my head came up to his mouth. I felt his body stiffen, he hadn't expected this. But nevertheless he enveloped his arms around me. It was comfort. It was what I needed desperately. It felt good at first, when he started to rub his hand up and down my back.

Then everything changed.

His hand trailed down over my butt and down to my thigh where he gripped hard. I looked up at him, hurt, confused. Was this really all I was?

His lips crashed on mine. I pushed away. His calloused hand felt horrible on my skin. He was rough and unrelenting. His lips pushed on mine again and I pushed hard on his chest. "Stop." I said it as sternly as I could but he wouldn't relent. I felt his hand slide farther up my thigh and panicked. "Stop!" I yelled it and tried to throw myself off of him. He caught me easily.

_**Wham.**_

His fist hit my face hard. I was down, gasping for air. One hand was holding me up, the other was on my face, my mouth open. I stared at him. He looked horrified at what he'd done. My eyes welled up. Nothing was going right. Nothing.

"You made me do it." He accused me.

I stood up and shook the dirt off of my dress. I didn't have any energy left to fight all the pain. I just accepted it. I turned away from him and began to walk towards the street. Find a cab, go home.

I should have known it wouldn't have been that easy.

I felt rough hands on the back of my neck, wheeling me around to face him. He crashed his lips on mine but I pressed them together and fought hard. He easily overpowered me and when I yelled his fist hit my chest. I lost all the air.

"You taunt me with that dress. You take my drinks. You couldn't have thought it wouldn't end like this. You wanted it." He was saying these things into my ear as I felt his free hand move down to undo his belt.

I wanted to scream but there was pain everywhere. My head, my chest, my body shivered uncontrollably as I fought him.

He pushed me into the wall hard.

His rough hands pushed my dress up.

I was engulfed in terror and blacked out.

When everything cleared he was standing above me smoking. I was in pain. My head throbbed. My abdomen felt swollen and elsewhere...I felt torn, I felt pain, sharp pain every time I moved. I looked up at him, tears flowing freely.

He inhaled deeply and threw the cigarette on the ground beside me.

"Can I keep these?" He held my underwear in his hand.

I didn't say anything. He smirked and walked away from me. Leaving me stranded in the alleyway.

* * *

><p>I managed to pull myself up. I got a cab that took me to the parking lot beside the school. I acted like I was getting in a car as he drove away. When I knew he was gone I walked back to the football field to my bag that was hidden under the bleachers.<p>

My body felt like it was going to fall apart any moment. I winced with every step and made slow progress. When I got to my hiding place in the bleachers between the pillar I collapsed. I didn't open my bag to pull out my blanket or clothes. I couldn't taint them with Mark.

I curled into a ball and let the tears fall freely, until they became sobs that wracked my body, and until I finally fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4 Scraping By

**AN: **Chapter 4! My, aren't we updating fast! I don't know if this will become a habit. I'm just really into writing right now. Still, let's hope so. I love getting your feedback, it is appreciated and always welcomed. So please, review away! It inspires me to write more. Hope you all are well. Oh yeah, obligatory disclaimer statement: I own none of these people, simply borrowing them for my own personal use that doesn't make money. Or whatever.

**Chapter 4: Scraping By**

My eyes snapped open.

_No._

It had to be a dream. All of it, everything. Getting kicked out, being on my own, Brittany and Artie. The club. Mark.

Mark. I pushed myself up, careful not to hit my head on the bleachers. I was still in my dress. My head was throbbing and there was definitely a sharp shooting pain coming from between my legs. I gulped and resisted the urge to roll over and vomit everywhere. It's not like there was anything in my stomach to wretch up. I hadn't eaten in...I couldn't even remember when.

I used the pillar I slept by and pulled myself up on shaky feet. I took off my left heel. The right had fallen off during the night. I picked them up along with my bag and trudged towards the school building.

I was lucky: a back door had been left unlocked. Probably so a janitor could easily sneak out for a smoke break. I gently made my way to the locker room. I was limping slightly, ambling along slowly, trying to find the pace that caused me the least amount of pain. I was pretty sure that less pain wasn't even an option. I felt like my body would never recover.

In the Cheerios locker room I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked dead.

There were dark bags under my eyes that I knew make up wouldn't hide. There was a bruise covering my left eye that spread to my temple. My hair was knotted and I'm pretty sure there was a twig in it. My dress was even more of a wreck.

I hobbled to the shower stall and moved inside. I sat down on the bench to catch my breath. It had taken everything I had and I was trembling. I hadn't eaten, I was hungover, beaten and...

_And what, Santana?_

I gulped. I knew what had happened.

_I was raped._

I felt my throat tighten and my chest ached. I wanted to sob. How had this happened? How had everything crumbled around me so swiftly? One moment I kissing Brittany's neck and now this...

Brittany.

She could never know. I could never tell anyone. It was my fault. Why did I have to doll myself up? Who was I looking to get revenge on? What had he said last night, that I wanted it. Maybe I did.

No. I wanted attention. I didn't want this.

I pulled myself up and shimmied out of the dress. I let it fall to the floor. I didn't care how dirty it got now. The dress and heels were going in the garbage as soon as I found a discreet place to leave them. I never wanted to see the dress again. It was sad, really, I used to love it. Things can change so quickly.

The warm water did wonders for me as soon as it hit my skin. I just stood under it letting it soak my hair and body. I ran my hands over my arms, washing away dirt and debris from the alleyway and the concrete outside. I ran my hands gently over my chest and stomach and looked down. There was an ugly bruise just below my ribcage. I cringed and groaned as my hand ran over it.

I turned around and let the water hit the back of my hair and my back. It felt amazing and I sighed. I turned back to face the water and let my hand wander down. I spread my legs gently, afraid of what I would feel as my hands made their way down. I felt something caked on my inner thigh. I rubbed gently and closed my eyes when I saw the red in the water. I knew there would be bruises on my inner thigh. I knew I was going to feel this discomfort for days to come.

* * *

><p>I didn't put on my Cheerios outfit. It would be harder for Sue to catch me and I knew she had to be on a rampage after me being absent from her side, constantly vigilant. I didn't care about Cheerios or school or anything really. I put on a pair of sunglasses that had lens that covered my bruise. I walked around school in between classes looking busy, but mainly hid. I started in the library acting like I needed a reference book. The librarian was watching me like a hawk. She could smell I didn't belong there. As soon as she turned around to hush a couple of students I ducked behind a shelf. It was a little nook-like area near reference that, by the dust accumulated, looked like even the librarian had forgotten even existed.<p>

I sat down, back to the wall looking ahead. I'd be able to see if anyone was rounding the corner into the cubby hole area. I leaned my head against the shelf and fell asleep.

* * *

><p>The bell woke me up. It rang loudly in my little corner. I was on my feet quickly. Too quickly. A sharp pain shot through my body. I doubled over and wanted to put a hand between my leg to sooth the pain I felt there. I stood up though and kept my hands to my side. Second period. Glee. I wasn't going.<p>

I sat down again and tried to fall back asleep. I ended up using my bag as a pillow.

I slept through three classes and lunch.

When I woke up my stomach was so loud I was sure the librarian would find me. I felt cramped and in pain. My hangover was gone but my body was stiff from sleeping on the ground so often. My head throbbed from the bruise. I sat up slowly and tried to stretch but felt a pain throughout my legs and thighs.

It seemed as if I had nothing but pain anymore. I felt numb though, oddly enough. I knew the pain was there, I felt the sting, but a feeling couldn't be pulled from me. I felt dead, like dead weight. Maybe I was just starting to accept that this was the way it was for me now.

I opened my duffel and pulled out the bag of flour tortillas. My stomach rumbled so loudly that it sounded like I was screaming to be found. I pulled the bag open and and reached in. My mouth watered. I ate four tortillas and an apple. I felt full and oddly enough, infinitely better.

Sure, things still looked bad. I had no where to stay, no where to go, I couldn't involve anyone. There wasn't any reasoning behind my need to be on my own anymore. I knew I had started out knowing why I had to do this alone, why I had to show people I was capable, but now it was just so ingrained into my being that I wouldn't be able to tell anyone why, even myself. I just knew this was my burden.

After the food I stretch slowly trying to avoid the inevitable pain that would come from any movement. There was one more class left for the day. Math. I definitely wasn't going to math. Life sucked enough, why would I add to the suck?

The final bell rang and my heart jolted.

Moment of truth, Santana.

I walked down the hallway. Not like I used to though. I would strut down the middle and smile as people would part for me like I owned them. The guys would watch my body move in my Cheerios uniform and want me, do anything for me if I asked. The girls wanted to be my best friend or be me. It had been the best feeling in the world.

Now I walked near the lockers on the right side of the hall dressed in the clothes of a civilian, limping slightly. No one seemed to take notice of me. Any other day I would have hated it. I would have done anything to be back on top, but today, I wanted to be invisible. I tried to grab the least exciting clothes I owned. A long brown shirt and jeans was today's option. My hair was down and in face, a precaution against Sue and I had big sunglasses on to cover my bruised eye. I was terrified someone would see it and ask questions.

I rounded a corner and heard the muffled laughter from the choir room. My heart jumped in my chest. I felt it slam into my ribcage and beg to be removed. I wanted to relent to it and just lie down and sleep forever, right in the hallway rather than face them. Face her. Brittany and Artie.

My heart thudded so hard against my chest I had to stop and catch my breath, slow my pulse. I was afraid of what I would do when I saw them. Last time I panicked and Mark happened. I couldn't handle anything else.

But at the same time...what did I have to lose?

I didn't know how things were going to go down. I opened the door and stepped inside.

"Santana?" It sounded accusatory at first but then trailed off as if losing it's way.

Rachel had spoken. She looked at me, concerned. She was standing in front of the class dressed in her usual attire. I couldn't find any way to describe what she was wearing.

I must be losing it.

"What?" I snapped at her and glared through the dark lenses. "Problem?" I changed my focus to the rest of the class. "Sorry I'm late."

I walked to the chairs staying away from anyone and climbed to my usual seat in the back but keeping at least one chair away from everyone. Luckily Brittany was sitting in the middle of the group and couldn't give me that hurt look when I didn't flock to her. Not that I didn't want to. I wanted to more than anything in the world.

I wouldn't let myself look at her. I knew that as soon as I did I would be gone. I'd want to melt into her slender arms and curl into her lap and stay forever. I suddenly ached for her touch, for her hands on me, just so we could connect, so we wouldn't be separate.

_Just don't look._

"Santana." It was a more stern voice. Mr. Shue.

I looked up at him. He had that look of uncertain sympathy. He wasn't sure how to handle my absence from school and sudden reappearance. I knew I looked bad. I knew I looked exhausted and all kinds of terrible. I knew he was looking at me as a concerned adult and it set me on edge.

"Look, I said I'm sorry." I folded my hands across my chest and crossed my legs.

I wanted them to stop looking at me. I couldn't take it.

"You didn't tell us where you were." It was Brittany. I jerked my head towards her out of habit but she was looking down.

"I texted you like ten times yesterday." It was Puck. He looked at me hard. They all were, except Brittany.

"I've been busy," I shrugged. I knew I was being a bitch, but it wasn't like they expected otherwise from me.

"We all know Santana has issues regarding loyalty to the Glee club. Who knows what she was doing and honestly, it doesn't matter. What does matter is making sure this year is the year we place at Nationals. Nay, fellow Glee clubbers, not simply place, win. My senior year has to be that shiny gold star that catapults me into the category of 'shoe-in' when I apply to college. Let's talk about songs."

And I was gone. I wanted Glee to win but it was too hard to focus on. We had plenty of time before nationals and right now I wanted to find a warmer place to sleep for winter. I became terrified and began to tremble at the idea of having to sleep in the snow. I didn't want to die.

I was overreacting. I had to be, I wasn't going to die, things couldn't end this badly. I just needed to make it through Glee rehearsal.

Groups had formed and people were talking animatedly or practicing scales or choreography. The weekly assignment. I had no idea what it was. Rachel was scribbling furiously on a piece of paper and Finn was sitting on the piano beside her looking at the wall. He was zoned.

Mercedes and Tina were giggling in a corner. Mike flitted around them effortlessly. Puck and Quinn were talking to each other, heads leaned in together. Artie was talking with Brittany. I was glad to see that she wasn't in his lap but there they were together. That was all I needed to see. I felt myself begin to slide out of the world around me. My vision tunneled. I wanted to go to sleep so badly.

"Hey," the voice said softly. I knew it was her. I could smell her next to me and I inhaled greedily. It was the most comforting aroma in the world and I had missed it.

"Mm," I said noncommittally.

"Why haven't you answered my texts?"

_Because I haven't checked my phone since I got kicked out._

"I've been busy, Britt. No big, we'll hang out soon."

She didn't say anything. I didn't look at her.

"Santana, what's wrong?"

Her voice had changed, the air had changed. I knew she was concerned I could feel it radiating off of her like heat and I had to resist the urge to reach out and touch her, just to feel that she was still real for me.

I didn't say anything. I couldn't. If I talked now she would be involved and I couldn't put her through this hell. I couldn't. She was the greatest thing in my life and still is even at this far distance between us and I couldn't put her through what I was barely surviving with.

"Well how about this," her voice had changed and so did the atmosphere. She had control like that, at least over me. She could easily make me feel whatever she wanted. She could own me. People thought I took advantage of Brittany, which may have been true on some occasions, but not always. The truth of the matter was that she had me wrapped so tightly into her I would do anything for her. She never took advantage of it though.

People wondered how I could be in love with her. She fit with me. That's all it was. The chemistry was explosive and the sex.

And then I felt his hands on me.

Nausea hit me like a train.

"Okay guys, good work for today, I'll see you tomorrow." Mr. Shue called to the class.

I bent doubled in my chair. I could smell him. The mix of cigarette smoke and whiskey. It burned my eyes and made my throat constrict. I wanted to get the feel of him off me but it was too thick in the choir room. Brittany had stopped talking, she was watching me. I could feel her eyes on my back.

"Santana, can we talk?" Mr. Shue had asked but I was halfway out the door before anyone else, hoping I had left whatever was left of Mark in the choir room.

* * *

><p>I walked quickly hearing him call, hearing the people moving slower than I was. As soon as I rounded a corner I began running. I was blinded by fear and just running to get away from everything that I knew was inside of me. I knew this had sunk into my skin an begun to stain me forever. This sickness that had marked me as it's equal and taken something away from me. My sanity, my ability to remain whole.<p>

I heard the footsteps running behind me and was struck. I stopped and turned. I felt like a caged animal. I crouched away from the person who stopped up just in front of me.

Brittany.

"San?" He voice had softened. Her eyebrows knit together and she instinctively reached towards me.

I pulled away. I couldn't let her touch me and become tainted. She would know just from touching me. She would know everything and she would see me and I couldn't stand the thought.

"I never got to finish in the choir room." She looked hurt at the flinch but she stood firm next to me like she always had.

"What?" The voice was weak, shaky.

"Come over. Please, my mom doesn't care. She's busy with a work project anyway. We could watch a movie or just talk." She looked so hopeful. Her blue eyes were glowing with the thought of having a sleepover with her best friend. Most people found this aspect of Brittany childish and immature, but it wasn't that at all. It was a way of thinking that wasn't poisoned by the way adults complicate things and label things to keep track of them or keep things in the right place.

I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to touch her. I wanted to go home with her and crawl into her bed and sleep melded into her like we had all summer.

"I can't, Brittany. I've got to go."

My voice sounded hollow. I adjusted my duffel, hesitated for a moment, and walked away. She watched me. I could feel her eyes on me until I turned the corner.

* * *

><p>It was frigid. That was the word. I was wearing a pair of sweatpants over my jeans, I had two pairs of socks on and shows. My hoodie was pulled over my shirt and I was wrapped in my blanket. Like completely wrapped.<p>

I had been crying for forty-five minutes straight. I had sobbed so hard that I was pretty sure someone must have heard me even though I tried to keep things quiet. I couldn't hold it in anymore. I hiccuped into my duffel bag and felt fed up with sleeping on the ground.

Energy pulsed through me. Wreckless energy. I was angry and I wanted to do something, anything, to get all of it out of me. It was worse than the sadness I felt, it was aggressive and couldn't be stopped. I stood up and paced under the bleachers, blanket still wrapped around me.

I wanted to scream, to punch someone, to yell until my throat caved in!

I stopped and felt instantly drained. I went to my bag and pulled out my phone. I dialed Brittany.

The phone beeped loudly and the call ended.

"What?" My voice startled me. I realized just how much I hadn't spoken in the past few days and that all of these things I was feeling was inside of my head.

I looked at the top left hand corner of the screen.

No service.

The anger swelled inside of me and then dissipated. Like a giant wave that roils forever then crashes onto the rocks and is no more. I washed back into an infinite ocean of nothing and felt nothing. I slumped to the ground.

They had taken everything from me.


	5. Chapter 5 Nothing

**AN: **_So_, here we are again! I would first like to say thank you to all of the reviews. They're wonderful inspiration to keep me going with writing this. Secondly, I know a lot of bad keeps happening and not much good at all. I'm trying to alleviate some of that with small things but it's hard. I need certain things to happen to Santana. She's going through this journey of pain so she can discover things about herself. Consciousness through pain. Hopefully this chapter lives up to your expectations!

**Chapter 5: Nothing**

I didn't jerk awake or snap awake like I had been. I was just awake. I opened my eyes and stared at the underside of the bleachers. Today felt different. I wasn't gripped with any fear or pain. I just accepted it all. This was what it was going to take. I didn't have the energy to spend every night crying so I would just have to accept it.

I groped for my phone, I knew it was somewhere near me. The time on the screen read 10:47.

"Shit." Again, I was very unfamiliar with my own voice anymore and it made me feel weird to hear myself speak. I knit my eyebrows together.

There were noises coming from the football field and the bleachers above me. "Shit," I said quieter.

I couldn't get caught. I just couldn't. I was lucky that no one had already found me back here. I couldn't be seen in the same clothes as yesterday, I couldn't go to class without a shower. I couldn't go to the Cheerios locker room with Sue probably on the prowl for me.

I was stuck.

I couldn't stay here all day though. Or could I? It's not like my attendance would be any different than the last few days. How many had it been? Three? Only three? No. Wait. I couldn't keep any of the days straight. I guess it didn't matter. What mattered was getting out of here without being noticed.

I stood up carefully ignoring the aches I felt. I stretched and sighed. I hadn't slept as badly as I had been. I even felt more relaxed. I took off my extra layers of clothes and stuffed them into my bag and pulled out new clothes for the day.

Gray shirt, jeans. How dreary. I just needed to blend more. Gray was about as far away as you could get from the red Cheerios outfit. I would put all of my things back into the bag and pulled out an apple. I ate it slowly, listening to the laughing girls outside.

It was a warm day. Gym was happening outside today and from the sounds of it, freshman gym. Thank god. I could handle the freshmen. I couldn't handle anyone else though. I walked out from under the bleachers staring straight at the school. If I looked anywhere else I would catch someone's eye and I just couldn't have any attention on me. I needed to get inside and away from my makeshift home. I could not be caught. I had to get to class.

Glee was ending, then what? Spanish.

_Shit._

* * *

><p>I had made it inside fine and spent then remaining time until Spanish fixing myself up in a bathroom. I had applied make up but the bruise on my face was getting worse, bigger. When I put on my glasses you could just see it above and below the lens.<p>

I stared at myself in the mirror for a long time. My heart starting pounding faster. This couldn't go on forever. It just couldn't. Someone was going to find out.

"But I can't let that happen."

LINE BREAK

I knew that Mr. Shue wasn't going to keep on humoring me. I knew that he would call me out soon, try to get to me and it scared me. The halls were clearing, people were heading to class, not wanting to be late. I stood by a locker, my hand on the cool metal and tried to regain myself. I felt light headed. I wanted to run and hide, anything than go to stupid Spanish.

Why had I picked it? Because I thought, hey, why not. I'll have Mr. Shue twice a day, not to mention after school rehearsal. Plus, Brittany wanted to continue with Spanish even though she was struggling a lot with it.

"J. Lo!" The shout caught me off guard and I jumped, my bag slid off my shoulder and hit the floor. I knew that voice. She had finally found me.

I turned around to see a seething Sue Sylvester towering over me.

"My office, now." She turned and walked away. I watched wanting to bolt in the other direction.

* * *

><p>This scene had played out a million times before. Sue sitting behind the desk. Me sitting on the other side awaiting orders or a verbal lashing. I didn't feel terrified this time like I usually did. I wasn't gushing with loyalty to the woman whose program had helped make me one of the undisputed top dogs of the school.<p>

I just felt tired.

"Take off those ridiculous glasses." She had her hands laced in front of her on the desk and was looking at me over her half glasses.

I crossed my arms and legs in response.

She watched me for a moment before smirking. "You know, J. Lo, I always like the rebellion in you. You're not like Q. who was devious but still didn't have the guts to kill to get what she wanted."

I didn't say anything. She continued to watch me.

"So, you'll understand my disappointment. Yesterday was Cheerio tryouts and my co-head cheerleader was supposed to be sitting by my right arm watching. And yet Becky and I were alone." She paused. "Now, I thought to myself, Sue, she must have a good reason for not showing up. Perhaps she was working on some devious plan to hinder Will Shuester and his gnag of misfits, but no, I knew that couldn't be it since my co-head cheerleader has sworn," her voice raised for the last words. "Secret allegiance to the one thing I've been seeking to destroy."

"You think I don't see you hiding from me in the hallways?" Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper. "I had trackers implanted in all my cheerios during the night at conditioning camp."

My mouth opened in surprise and my eyebrows knit together. I had known Sue for four years and I knew that she was mainly full of bullshit but it was always a shock when she dropped a crazy bomb on you.

"I can't have a co-head cheerleader who skips classes, shows up in hangover glasses and has a slowly plummeting GPA. You're off my squad."

The words hit me hard. I thought I had stopped caring about any of this. But it hurt. Cheerios had bee my identity for almost four years and when it had failed me at least I had Glee. But now Glee was slipping from me. I was nothing now.

Sue took off her glasses.

"I have other girls to think about and I need a winning team. A team that I know you would be perfectly capable of being co-head captain again on day. But right now, I won't put up with this attitude. Come back when you fix your attitude. You can go."

I stood up. I could feel the tears trying to fall but I didn't want her to see me weak. I didn't want her to think she had won. I put my hand on the door handle.

"Santana."

I don't think she'd ever called me by my name before. I turned to look at her and tried not to sniffle.

"Come back to me as a Cheerio when your attitude changes. Come to me for anything in the meantime. Now leave." She went back to her computer.

Had Sue Sylvester just kicked me off the Cheerios and the offered to help?

* * *

><p>Regardless of Sue wanting to help I skipped the rest of my classes.<p>

I went to Glee. No one said anything to me. I knew Mr. Shue would be confronting me any day now and I had to find a way to keep away from him. It was hard though. He was under the impression that he could help all of us kids. Sure he could help Finn and Rachel and Quinn but he couldn't help me. He couldn't help Kurt when things were happening to him last year. This wasn't as bad but it was the same idea.

I didn't want to be here. I didn't want to be anywhere. I just wanted to go to sleep. I wasn't a Cheerio, I had no idea what was happening in any of my classes. I had no home. I had nothing. I was nothing. My heart was hammering in my chest.

Someone was talking and I couldn't hear them anymore. I heard the noise but not the words. I felt really light all of a sudden. I closed my eyes hard and then felt something slam against me. It knocked the breath out of me.

"Santana!" It wasn't just one voice. I felt hands on my body, shifting me.

"What?" I barely croaked it out. My voice felt like an intrusion inside my throat. It had been absent for so long.

"Here, turn her over." The hands laid me gently on my back.

"Someone go see if the nurse is still here."

That woke me up. I snapped my eyes open and was terrified I had damaged something in my brain. Half of my vision was dark and the other half was very bright. The sunglasses. They were skewed on my face. I slapped my hands to my face harder than I had wanted to. I whimpered and tried to adjust them to hide my bruise.

_Oh my god. Oh my god. No one saw._

Brittany, Mr. Shue, and Mike Chang were leaning over me.

"I'm fine, don't get the nurse." I sounded strained.

"Santana, you could be hurt." It was Mr. Shue.

"I'm fine." I pushed Mike's hands off of me. They were strong, slightly calloused. They reminded me of Mark. I began to shake and pulled my knees up to my chest. "Just stop, okay. I'm fine."

I spoke quietly. The room was so silent though that I'm sure everyone heard me.

"Santana," began Mr. Shue. Here it was, the speech to get help.

"I've been having trouble sleeping. I just fell asleep. I'm fine. I swear. I'm just going to go."

I stood up and wavered. Brittany was there holding me steady. Her hands on me set me on fire. Her fingers were soft, her movements gentle. I craved for any attention any affection and I couldn't ask her to stop. She felt so different than Mark or the concrete.

I grabbed my bag and left the room, pushing past Rachel who was standing by the door. I could hear people talking in the room but I didn't want to hear what they had to say. I picked up my pace and felt the nausea rush over me. My head was spinning. I turned a corner and slumped against the lockers, trying to pull myself back to cohesion.

A hand was on my forehead. Another on my shoulder. I whimpered again. The hands pulled me close to a body that seemed to wrap itself around me, meld into me completely.

Brittany.

I had been ignoring her, mean to her even and here she was comforting me without a second thought about it. She was here for me. I breathed in her scent. Tropical, sweet. It made me feel safe and sent my head spinning in a completely different way.

"Come on honey, stand up." Her voice was soft. She wrapped her arms around my body and helped me get to my feet.

I wrapped my arms around her and buried my face in her neck and began shake and cry.

She rubbed my back and held me tight, whispering nothings in my ear to try and soothe me.

"I'm sorry." I wasn't sure if she had heard it.

I pulled away from her and looked deep in her eyes through the glasses. "I haven't been ignoring you on purpose. I promise."

"I know," she said softly. Her eyebrows were knit together and she was the picture of worry. I hated seeing her this upset, especially at my expense but I couldn't pull away from her. She was everything I needed right now. Everything I wanted.

Her hand that had been rubbing up and down my arm stopped. She met my eyes and I knew what she was going to do. I felt a knee-jerk reaction to stop her but I didn't. I let her hands drift up and gently pull the glasses off my face. I couldn't make eye contact with her.

My body stiffened when she let out a short gasp.

She ran the pad of her thumb across my cheek, just under the bruise. I flinched slightly, not out of pain, out of shock. No one had had any physical contact with me for days except for...

I gasped and felt my chest tighten. I wanted to cry, to tell her everything. I was shaking, terrified.

"Come on, San."

She grabbed my hand and pulled me with her. I didn't know where we were going and I didn't care. I just couldn't let her let go of me.

**AN:**Okay. So the chapters had been getting progressively shorter and this one is no exception. I haven't really edited it well, I just kind of finished it then uploaded it. I really hate waiting to upload because, even though I don't know how you enjoy my crappy writing, I hate waiting for other authors to update their stories. Next chapter is going to be super long and the one after that, so don't expect an update for a while. Though I may split the chapters up if they run too long. I'm also pretty sure this chapter is really bad.


	6. Chapter 6 And If I Die, Before I Wake

**AN: **Thank you so much for the reviews! They are so appreciated. When things at work are dead or I'm on break I always check if I got any reviews on my phone and every time I checked today there were some more. It was really awesome, so thank you all very much! Also, sorry if this is a bit rough. I finished it then immediately uploaded it for you all.

This is the second time I've uploaded this, sorry. I gave you all the really rough version without my edits I do online and they're kind of a flow killer. So sorry about the problems there!

**Chapter 6: And If I Die, Before I Wake**

I was curled into a ball in the passenger seat.

"My mom is at class, she isn't home. My dad will be there, but only for a few hours, he works night shift now."

She had been talking to me ever since we got into the car. It wasn't in a pressured way though, like she wanted me to respond. She was just talking about things, sharing things. She hadn't seen me, her best friend in three days and for Brittany and I, that was a long time. I'm glad she kept talking, I didn't want silence, there had been far too much silence lately.

"We can just go up to my room and talk."

I didn't want to talk but I couldn't shoot her down after everything she was doing for me. How she just accepted my irrational and unexplained behavior without ever questioning anything or holding my absence and stand-offish ways against me.

"I've missed you, Santana." She said it quietly. I wanted to tell her I missed her too, more than anything I had lost. I missed her so much. I remained silent.

She pulled into the driveway and parked the car. We both got out. She looked at me over the hood of the car. Her expression wasn't pained anxiety that it was at school, but soft, a slight smile playing her lips. It was open, inviting, she was asking me to trust her, showing me empathy and love, whatever I needed or wanted. It was pure Brittany.

I swung my bag onto my shoulder and shut the car door.

Brittany rummaged through her key chain to find the right key. She had far too many key chains but she was too sentimental to get rid of any and I had stopped pestering her about a long time ago. When we first starting getting really close I had asked her about it and offered to prune a few off myself but she was dead set against it and I couldn't figure out why. The multiple key chains that were broken and faded and ripped and just completely worn out to the point where anyone else would have thrown them away annoyed the hell out of me. Especially when we were on our way into her house _needing_ to get to her bedroom and we had had to stop and wait for Brittany to sort through the mess. But now, in this situation, standing in front of her door waiting for her to find the right key, it made me smile. The first smile in what felt like years. It made me smile because I realized that in this eternity I had spent without Brittany, I was realizing that I was in love with everything about her, especially the small things that should be so annoying.

"I'm trying to find it." She knew how much I would become annoyed at the jangling keys.

"It's fine," I said quietly putting a hand on hers.

She continued looking through her key chain, head bent down. I was pretty sure I saw a small smile on her lips. It made my stomach flip. I wanted to kiss her smile, soak up some of the sunlight she was radiating. I wanted to be absorbed in Brittany and wash away all of the hurt with her.

"There!" She pushed the key into the lock, turned and opened the door.

The Pierce family household smelled like home to me. It was though, like a second home. I spent almost the same amount of time I spent at home at Brittany's house and vice versa for her. We had been joined at the hip all through school...but only literally during the last two years.

It was quiet though. Usually it was filled with one sound or another. A television going, someone yelling something, loud music from Brittany's room. But there was nothing, only silence that greeted us.

"It's so quiet." I felt like my words made the house shake.

"Yeah. It's been like, really quiet. Susan has some new project or something for class and Paul is on night shift."

Brittany called her parents by their first name. But never to their faces. They were always mom and dad except to other people. I had asked her about it the first time it came up and she had shrugged saying that if she said mom or dad did this then other people might think she was talking about their mom and dad. She thought this way was less confusing.

Her mother was going back to school, which I knew was really hard on the family, but they managed. They more than managed, they thrived on each other and lived happily and accepting. Carefree.

I sighed heavily. "It's good to be home." I looked at Brittany and she smiled at me.

"It's good to have you home, babe." I couldn't help but smile at her. "Are you hungry?"

_Starving._

"I'm fine, Britt."

"Well, let me know if you need anything."

_You. I need you._

"I'm fine, seriously. You know I know my way around your kitchen anyway."

"I know, I just..." She didn't know how to finish her thoughts. I knew how she felt. The situation was different. Or at least it felt different to me. But I think that's just because I felt so different. Brittany had no idea what had been happening. The thought that I was still in this alone shook me to my core. I felt my body tense.

"Let's go up to my room."

"Okay," I said it softly, my voice getting caught in my throat a bit.

The last time I had been in Brittany's bedroom we had argued. When she opened the door it felt like those memories of hurt were still there. I didn't like it. I didn't want that to be the way I remembered things.

I set my bag by the door and sat on the bed slowly, wincing slightly. It had become an ache, not really a pain. He must have been rough with me.

I froze. I felt my eyes widen. My hands gripped the side of the bed and I felt my chest constrict. It was hard to breath. I gasped, choking for air.

"Santana?"

She was kneeling in front of me. Looking up at my face, trying to get me to focus on her. But I couldn't. I couldn't let her look into me and see just what I had done. What had happened. I was infected with Mark, stained...marked.

I let out a dry sob. It hurt, it all hurt everywhere. I couldn't breath.

"Santana, honey, look at me."

Her hands were on my knees trying to get me to focus on her instead of whatever nightmare she knew was playing in my head. I couldn't look at her.

Suddenly she was everywhere. She stood up and wrapped her arms around me. I could feel her, smell her. Something inside of me broke and all the pain, all the build up of emotion broke through me and hit me hard. I inhaled deeply and began sobbing.

She sat on the bed beside me and pulled me into her. My legs were slung over her lap, my arms around her neck, my face buried into her shoulder. I cried harder than I think I ever had in my entire life. I tried to let my parents reaction, living alone, the dirt from the concrete and Mark flow out of me and onto her. The tears were heavy as they fell. I could hear them all around me. In my ears and my mind.

"I'm s-sorry," I choked into her shoulder. She had to know I didn't mean for any of this to happen. Didn't mean to drag her into this. "It's a-all m-my fault." I jerked on the words and felt like I was yelling them. I couldn't contain the sobs that made my body convulse in her arms.

"No, Santana, no. You're fine. I've got you. I'm not going to let you go, okay? You don't have to worry. I've got you now."

I knew she meant the words and it made me cry harder. I wasn't ever going to be good enough for Brittany. I wasn't ever going to have everything together to be with Brittany. I was nothing again. She had made me forget but now, crying into her arms, I remembered.

Brittany deserved everything and I had nothing to give but secret love.

* * *

><p>I don't know how or when it happened but I woke up in a dark room, in a comfortable bed, wrapped in the arms of the only person I could completely rely on. She was holding me gently.<p>

I let my eyes adjust to the darkness. Soon I could make out the details of her room I knew so well.

I felt drained, exhausted but oddly enough better. This was what I needed. This was my out.

If I just woke her up now and told her about everything, my parents, Mark, living under the bleachers. She could help me fix it. Brittany would do anything to fix it.

_Including telling her parents._

My heart sank. I knew she couldn't be involved. I knew that if she told her parents they would ask questions that would lead to answers about...the way I was. People didn't accept that. My own parents couldn't accept that. How could hers? What if they kicked her out like me?

No. I'd already decided that she couldn't be involved.

I shifted positions to look at her face. She looked so peaceful. So far away from me. I felt like I could never be with her like I had been this summer. Like I would never be able to open up to her or just be with her. I was too heavy now, weighed down by all of this...trauma.

I couldn't drag her with me. I wouldn't.

I shifted my position and slowly, gently, tried pulling myself out of her arms. She shifted her body but kept her eyes closed. I pulled completely away from her and immediately felt cold. Alone. I sat up in her bed. I was wearing different clothes. Just a long t-shirt to sleep in. I saw my clothes folded and put on her desk.

My heart seemed to shatter in my chest. She would never stop being good to me.

I changed in the dark, silent room and crept down the stairs and out into the cool night.

I checked my phone as I pulled the re-locked door closed. It was 3:48. I had been sleeping for so long. I felt good, full of energy. I could think straight. I pulled an apple from my bag and ate it as I walked. I was starving, which wasn't really unusual for me anymore. Sure I had been on extreme diets during Cheerios conditioning, but this was different. I was literally unable to get food for myself.

It was relaxing, the walk. The air felt nice even if there was a bit of a chill to it. Apples had always been a comfort to me. Something about sinking my teeth into the flesh was satisfying. Bite, step, chew, step. Rhythm, stability.

God, I needed help.

I was in it for the long haul.

When I got to school it was almost five. I had taken my time not wanting to rush. I had spent the entire walk thinking about Brittany. I felt horrible leaving her. She'd wake up, expecting me and find my note saying a lame thanks and telling her I'd see her later. But she knew too much, she saw the bruise. I knew she wouldn't tell straight away. She'd want me to come to her first.

I waited for the school doors to open on the bleachers.

* * *

><p>It had become a risk I had to take, using the Cheerios locker room as a place to shower and get ready for the day. As long as I was out before seven I would be fine. Sue got to school promptly at seven and went on her rounds with the captain, making sure everything was in order for the day. Morning Cheerios practice hadn't started yet, but when it did I was going to have to be very careful about my use of the private facilities.<p>

I stepped out of the lockers and into the gym at 6:59. Sue would be walking into the building at any moment. I was in the clear. I walked into the hallways and tried to make my way as far away as I could from the gym. I didn't want to be seen anywhere near it.

The school was just opening. The only students that were in the halls were those whose parents had to drop them off early or those who needed to make up some type of test or quiz for a teacher. I walked to my locker, glasses firmly planted on my face. I tried to keep my head up, regain some of the reputation I had lost since being kicked off Cheerios.

What did it matter, really? I didn't care, I didn't want to be involved in anything. I just wanted to some how get through this sludge that was covering my life. But I couldn't have people asking questions. I couldn't have people looking at me and wondering what happened. It was kill or be killed.

I had to keep up appearances and not just to the student body. I had to go to class. I stopped by my locker, a place I hadn't been in a while. I pulled out my books for English and Spanish and held them in my arms. I knew I was behind. I still had almost an hour to kill.

The library. I knew the librarian hated me, which I have no idea why, I was a bitch but not to the elderly. She just hated anyone that wasn't a book worm. Which of course was another lie, she loved Brittany. But who didn't love Brittany?

Brittany. I ached to be near her.

* * *

><p>I had done homework that I knew was due before my absence for the past few days in the library. The librarian had watched me like a hawk from her desk. I kept my head down and read the short story from my English text book, copied down the answers as best as I could and then started on the Spanish. It wasn't that hard to fall back into the pattern of doing homework.<p>

It felt nice, actually. I could focus my mind on something that didn't make me feel like curling into a ball and dying. Plus, and I would never say it aloud, my grades were important to me. I wanted to go places in life and new grades were at the heart of it. Sure I didn't try as hard as I could but I got A's and B's. At least I did. Who knew where I was at now. Three days of missed assignments? That's like...three zeros, at least. I couldn't just make that up.

I also didn't want to disappoint Mr. Schue more than I had. I wanted him to know that I was trying, it was just a different type of trying than what he was expecting or could see.

The warning bell rang. I shut my books and raced to English class where I prayed silently I wouldn't fall asleep.

Luckily, I didn't. When the teacher asked for us to pass the homework up, I passed up the questions I had finished this morning. I was 99% sure that it wasn't the right assignment, but it was something. We had the last few minutes of class to talk. I didn't say a word to anyone. I wrote down the next homework assignment in the cover of the one notebook I had grabbed out of my locker...it was for math. At least it was for something.

When the bell rang the class was filled with the jostling noise of students getting their bags together and leaving. I sighed and picked myself up. Glee was next. I exhaled slowly. Here we go.

"Santana?" I jerked my head up. It was the teacher. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

She looked stern. Her lips were thin lines across her face and her eyes were slightly narrowed. I approached her desk slowly. I knew she was mad and had every right to be but I really didn't think I could handle a verbal lashing today, even if it was deserved.

I was the one making mistakes here, not these people around me. I was the one who had to atone. Everything that had happened to me was because of me. I was at fault.

"Yes?" I said it quietly.

"This wasn't the assignment that was due today." She turned the paper around to face me. "In fact, this was due Tuesday. It is now Friday. Where have you been?"

I stared at her wide-eyed through the glasses. I knew I looked ridiculous with them on but it was too soon to take them off and I knew teachers wouldn't argue with me about them. I never lost arguments with teachers. My mouth opened slightly and I just shook my head and looked down.

We stood in silence for a long time. She took out a slip of paper and began to scribble on it. I knew she was sending me to Figgins. And that would be the end, wouldn't it? She would send me to him, we'd fight, he'd call my parents and then everyone would know everything. What would happen if they knew I had been living on the school grounds? Would they make me leave? Would I have to go live with a foster family?

"Here. I hate to see someone mess up their senior year. I know you aren't incapable, even if you are stubborn. Get it together and bring me these Monday. We'll talk about your grade." She slid the piece of paper across the desk and went back to grading.

They were the assignments I had missed. She was helping me. I stared at the paper, my mouth open, my eyes filling slowly with tears.

"That's all." It was a dismissal. I reached for the paper and took it in trembling hands.

"Thanks," I muttered slightly. I wasn't sure if she heard me, but I hope she did. It was the small gestures like this that made getting through the day...doable.

I read the paper in the hallway. I could do this easily, before the school closed down. I could go to the library and just do this and be caught up. I felt my heart lighten. I could fix things without having to pull anyone down with me.

The warning bell rang and my heart jumped. I didn't want to go to Glee. It would be hard and I knew that there was an assignment due today that I had prepared nothing for. But I couldn't skip it then go to Spanish. I took my time walking, feeling my body become cold with anticipation. The last bell rang and the hallway emptied. I stopped walking. I couldn't be caught in the hall but I couldn't go to class. I could hear Mr. Schue in the choir room and I couldn't interrupt their happiness.

I spent the hour in the bathroom doing English homework.

The bell echoed loudly in the stalls around me. I knew I had to go to the next class. Spanish. Mr. Schue would ask me questions and Brittany would be there. I opened the stall door and walked out before anyone had the chance to come in and see me hiding.

The halls crowded quickly. I tried to stay close to the lockers to avoid running into anyone, especially someone from Glee. I felt nervous. I knew I was getting too out of hand. I needed to get back on track and get to class before the administration started noticing. Before Mr. Schue decided to go to Figgins who would go to my parents. Before Brittany said anything because she was worried about me.

It was time to suck things up and get on with life. I had messed up and been through a lot but enough was enough. I arrived at Spanish with a new feeling of resolve. I was one of the few students in the classroom. I went to the back and sat down. It wasn't my usual seat but I didn't want to be noticed.

When Brittany walked in my heart lept in my chest. She looked perfect in her Cheerios outfit. The white long sleeve shirt she wore under the uniform during the winter months seemed to make her glow. She saw me and her eyes lit up, she smiled and beelined for me. I didn't want her back here with me. I couldn't face her.

"Hey," she said happily, sitting down in the chair beside me. "I got your note."

Silence.

"I know you got kicked off the Cheerios."

It was just a statement. She didn't say anything else. I wanted to scream, though. I didn't want her to see me falling apart and losing everything but I knew she would see it before anyone else. I opened my mouth to say something, but Mr. Schue began lecturing in Spanish.

She took notes and kept her eyes on her own paper. It was like she was ignoring me. I felt hurt, but I knew it was because I had been acting the same way with her.

Wait...Artie. I had completely forgotten. She had taken me home with her, cared for me, changed my clothes and slept holding me. But what about Artie? They had been so close the other day. He hated when we spent time together. If they were back together he would have never allowed what had happened.

I wanted to ask her. I needed to know. Was I mistaken? Were they still together or not? My heart started pounding at the thought of her being free. At the thought of what my overreaction had resulted in.

But no, that was my fault. Going off, that was my fault. It was my fault Mark had...I let out a silent strangled breath. I couldn't think about it. It felt like a hazy nightmare until I thought about it. Then I could feel him against me, inside me.

My stomach lurched.

"San?" Her voice was barely above a whisper beside me. I turned to look at her. She was worried. I looked around the class. No one was looking at me. If they had been I would have fainted. I could feel the lightheaded feeling spreading through me again, like the day in choir room.

I was never going to escape.

The bell rang through my bones.

Too much was happening all at once. People began putting books away and leaving. I shut my Spanish book and tried to pull my things together. My hands were shaking so hard.

"Santana, please stop." It was Brittany, her hand was resting lightly on mine.

"I can't, Britt." I grabbed my books and walked to the front of the class, wanting to shove past people and leave.

"Santana, I need to talk to you." This voice was different. Male. My stomach lurched again. I hated male voices. They all reminded me of Mark. It was Mr. Schue. People pushed past me. Soon Brittany, Mr. Schue and I were the only ones in the class.

"Where have you been?" I didn't look at him.

"I can't," was all I said.

"Can't what? We've been worried. Are you sick?"

I was breathing hard and could feel the lightheadedness consume me. "I can't," I yelled and stormed out of the room. I walked swiftly down the hall, pushing past people. I wanted to run. I turned a corner and flung myself into the nearest bathroom.

It was empty. I locked myself into a stall and threw up. There wasn't really anything in my stomach to expel. I dry heaved over the toilet and then sagged against the stall wall. Any other day I would have disgusted myself, being on the bathroom floor, but I didn't care. I wanted to curl into a ball on the cold, hard tile and sleep.

I pulled myself up and stood there until the bell rang. Then I snuck off to the library.

* * *

><p>I spent the rest of the day in my reference corner of the library that everyone had forgotten about. I did all of my English assignments and some Spanish. I ended up falling asleep.<p>

It sounded like a gunshot then a stampede. Final bell. School was over. Weekend.

I would be locked out of a place to shower for the whole weekend. I had just enough food left to last me for the next few days but at least I had some money. Maybe I should just go to that cheap hotel and stay the weekend. It would be better than nothing. I still had...$280 to my name. It would have to do.

But I couldn't do that forever. I needed money. I guess I would have to start looking for a job.

I don't know why but the thought made tears form in my eyes. I didn't mind working. I had picked up summer jobs before, but my dad insisted I didn't work during the school year, focus on my grades and Cheerios.

Dad.

I let the tears fall. I wanted to hug him so badly. I wanted to be home. I missed them like I couldn't image, even after everything they had put me through all I wanted was for my mom to hold me and rock me slowly.

The library corner suddenly felt too confined. I needed space.

I left quickly. I could feel the librarians eyes on my back as I left. I hope she didn't go and try to look for where I've been hiding. I wanted my spot to remain my spot.

I fought against waves of students making towards the front exit to catch a bus. I needed to get away from everything, from these people. I kept going to the back of the school. It was deserted. I went into the nearest bathroom and put my bag on the counter. I leaned over a sink, chest heaving. I took my my glasses and ran some water. I cupped my hand under the faucet and threw it on my face. I grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser and rubbed hard.

I felt like there was a layer of slime on me and I needed to get it off. The rubbing hurt my face. I was pushing too hard on my bruise. I threw the paper towel into the sink and let out a strangled cry. It echoed loudly in the bathroom.

I wanted to scream. I felt like there was this thing trapped inside of me that needed out. I couldn't contain myself anymore. I ran my fingers roughly through my hair and stared at my reflection in the mirror. I looked crazed, possessed. I inhaled deeply then exhaled loudly. My breath caught in my throat and became a sob. I looked away from the person in the mirror, not sure who she was anymore. I went to a stall and sat down. I felt unsteady.

I sat there for a long time. I lost track of everything, including myself. I could hear people passing, but not janitor coming to close the bathroom, just a few passing people.

There must have been some event going on in the school.

At some point I began to cry. It was just silent tears at first and then it became sobs. Sobs that forced me to hold onto myself. I was afraid my heart would push itself out if I didn't hold onto myself. I rocked back and forth, trying to calm myself but it wasn't working too well.

I had just fallen into a steady rhythm of slightly controlled hysterics when I heard it.

"Hello?" I knew the voice was familiar but I couldn't place it.

I inhaled sharply and couldn't stop the whimper that passed through my lips.

"Are you okay?"

I could place the voice. I knew it well. Rachel Berry.

My body froze. I wouldn't end like this.

I picked myself off and was surprised at how quickly I could shut myself down. I felt dead. I imagined being dead. I wiped my eyes off on my shirt sleeve and unlocked the door. My legs felt weak beneath me as I opened it.

"What're you doing here, Berry?" The words didn't sound as angry as they should have. There was no Santana bite, no anger, just words. I didn't have it in me, but I couldn't let her see it.

She looked at me, eyes wide. "I-I was..." She trailed off. What was she looking at? "Using the auditorium. There's an academic team meet in the library so the school is open..."

"What?" I glared at her then looked in the mirror. What was she looking at? My face went pale as I saw the bruise, exposed to me, the world, and Rachel Berry. She knew. My heart began to hammer.

"Is that a bruise, Santana?" She sounded concerned. It made me want to fall to the ground and seep into the earth to hide from her. I wanted Brittany.

I brushed passed her and grabbed my things from the sink counter. I shoved the glasses on my face and ignored her calls for me as I pushed open the swinging door and ran down the hall. I had to get away from her. From everything.

**AN: **So even though this is as many pages as the first chapter, it isn't as many words. About the same as Chapter two. Also, I want to say that writing this was just supposed to be a nice escape from some of the things I'm having to deal with. I didn't expect the reviews and wonderful words you all have been leaving for me. I appreciate it, because it inspires me to write more for you and it's just nice to read something supportive. I hope you like this chapter. It leaves things off differently than my original outline, so I'm not sure where I'm going from here. And I have a few more Glee fanfiction ideas that I've been working on, but only one avidly. Sorry, only one is Brittana. The others are a bit surprising, especially to me.

The next update will be a while. I really want to hammer out some more plotline for this story and finish up my other Glee fic. I'm pretty sure it's a one-shot for now but may be a story later. So, I know I said that this chapter would take a while to update and it took me...a day or so, but I think I actually mean it this time when I say it may take a while. I'm probably lying.


	7. Chapter 7 Moment by Moment

**AN:** I can't tell you all how much I appreciate your reviews! I love the feedback your giving me about my portrayal of Santana. She's very fragile at this time and a little off the walls emotionally. She seems to always be in two places at once. I'm trying really hard to capture the indecision, fear, and denial. Your reviews are letting me know I'm on the right track. Thank you, so much.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7: Moment by Moment<strong>

There were memories here.

They stabbed me in the chest like an icicle. I could feel it melting and infecting me. I was infected. From memories of what I had done. I've had a lot of sex. I thought that's what I wanted when I slept with all those guys. I thought I had wanted sex because it would make me popular and it felt good.

Then I had sex with Brittany.

I knew it wasn't just something you did. I had had no idea you could feel so much and it hurt. So I locked it away.

I was still locking it away.

The motel was familiar. I'd been there more than once and with more guys than Finn. Looking at it made me feel dirty, made me cringe. I wanted to scratch at my skin until it fell away. Maybe skinless would feel better than coated in my own grime. My own filth.

I shivered as a particularly biting wind blew past me and seemed to sink through my clothes and to my bones. I didn't want to go inside. It was just a reminder of all the things I had done. All of the stupid decisions I had made.

But it was a place to go. The night was becoming colder. The man at the desk didn't ask for an ID or age if you paid in cash. I had enough money for the weekend and some food. A nervousness crept through my mind. What about after the weekend? After that food? After the money?

That would have to wait.

I pushed on the see through glass door that led to the very shabby lobby. There was an older man behind the desk. He looked vaguely foreign and was balding. He looked up at me from his crossword when I entered and smirked slightly.

I wanted to vomit all over his ugly carpeting.

I approached the desk. "I need a room."

"No guests tonight?" He smirked and typed something on a computer that looked like it was the first one ever made.

I said nothing. I stared at the fake green marble counter top, waiting, wishing he couldn't see me. Wishing he wasn't thinking about the things I had done in his motel.

"How long?"

"What?" I had zoned out.

"How long do you want the room?"

"Until Monday morning. Early check out. Six-thirty."

His eyebrows furrowed and he narrowed his eyes at me. Then he switched to his computer, typed something and said,"You know I'm not supposed to service to minors."

"I'm not a minor. I turned eighteen over the summer and I have cash." I continued to stare at the counter, glancing up at him every once in a while.

"Well then. It's forty dollars a night."

I sighed. "Why not thirty-five? It's not like you ever have anyone stay longer than an hour or two anyway." Where had that come from? Maybe I wasn't completely dead on the inside anymore.

He chuckled. "Thirty-five for the pretty lady, then." He clicked a few keys. I tried not to scream. "One hundred and five dollars."

I exhaled the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. I pulled the money from my pocket, slowly. I didn't want him to have it. Spending money had never really been an issue in the past but now it made me nervous, made me far too aware of how little money seemed to be worth.

He took an extra long time to count out my change and give me a key. I took it from his grubby hand and walked out of the lobby into the cold night.

The motel was designed so that the lobby and 'dining area', as it was pathetically labeled, were in one bedroom and the motel rooms were set up like apartments. Ten on the top floor, ten on the bottom. One huge straight line with parking spaces in front of it.

Lucky number 9A. I was surprised. It was the farthest apartment away from the lobby. Except, of course, for number ten. Was he really booked that full? Or, by some strange coincidence had he given me privacy, away from anyone who may be around, including himself.. I was on the second flood. I walked to the other end of the stretch of a building and climbed the stairs there. I didn't want to have to walk in front of the motel rooms and hear people having sex. My stomach had been through enough today.

I looked at my phone. It was almost seven.

I climbed the steps slowly and walked past room 10A. I stood in front of the pink door to room 9A, my new home for the weekend. The A was lopsided, the numbers a faded gold color.

The key fit perfectly to my relief.

I opened the door and was hit by a stale smell. It didn't smell bad, just stale. I flicked on the light switch, shut the door behind me, locked it, and bolted it. I didn't want to be bothered.

I stood with my back against the door and looked at the room.

The walls were wood paneled. The carpet, a horrible brown shag that was stained with who knows what. There were some horrible prints of flowers above the bed which had one of those horribly scratchy blankets that only really crappy motels seemed to have. It was the same shade of brown as the carpet. The bed had a bedside table on either side, both with matching lamps. There was a small circular table to my left with a chair and a dresser against the wall opposite the headboard with a TV and a mini-fridge. Directly across from the door was the bathroom. I didn't even want to think about how disgusting it would be.

I sighed. This was my home for the next three nights and two days.

At least it was something.

I put my bag on the bed and unzipped it. I took out the food I had left and stuck it in the fridge. That of course consisted of about two tortillas in a plastic bag. I sighed. I didn't know what to do. I sat on the edge of my bed and dumped the contents of my bag out. I only had one more clean outfit left. There was a place to do laundry in the main building, but I just wasn't feeling it tonight.

I stripped off my clothes and crawled into the bed, surprised at how comfortable and undisgusting it felt.

I was asleep as soon as I hit the pillow.

* * *

><p>I kept running. I was out of breath and felt a stitch in my side, but I couldn't stop. I couldn't and I wouldn't. Even if I wanted to I had to keep running. My legs felt like they were on fire beneath me. I felt the muscles begging me to stop. I could hear them screaming for relief.<p>

No, I could really hear them. Or at least screaming. Someone was screaming.

It stopped and so did I. The sound of my footsteps echoing around me and fading off. I was at school on the track. I looked behind me and saw him coming after me.

That's why I was running.

I started running again. The screaming started. I followed the track, one huge circle over and over. I knew this, I knew if I kept running I would keep going in a circle in a circle in a circle.

I ran faster. I heard his footsteps echoing behind me.

My heart was pounding. My head throbbing. I felt like throwing up or just laying down and letting him catch me.

No. No, that wasn't an option.

I kept running.

I fell. I fell hard, tripped. I slammed into the ground and cried out in pain. Concrete scraped away the skin on my thighs. I don't know how but I was raw, bleeding. I laid there and looked at what had undone me.

Brittany's huge misshapen key ring lay in the middle of the track. Why hadn't I seen it before.

I looked over the keys and saw him running faster.

He wanted them for himself.

I felt defeated. My legs burned, my throat burned, my head throbbed. Everything hurt. But he couldn't have her keys. He just couldn't. They were good, they were the only good left in the world.

I knew this because everything was catching on fire around me, even the concrete beneath our feet, except those keys. They were all that I had left.

I crawled towards them. The fire licked at me and made me cry.

I reached a hand out as his foot lifted to kick them away.

The ground shattered. We were falling. Him, me, the keys.

I hit the ground hard.

My eyes flew open.

I sat bolt upright in the bed and looked around. I still felt like the world was dark. My chest heaved and my body shook. I could feel the light layer of sweat on me and nausea swept through me swiftly, causing my stomach to churn and my back to hunch over.

I exhaled hard and whimpered. I curled in on myself and laid down. I shut my eyes tight and tried to pretend that I wasn't alone. That Brittany was right here with me.

I felt myself falling back into sleep. At least I wasn't dreaming.

I woke up a few hours later.

I felt dead. I knew I was awake before I opened my eyes.

I didn't want to open my eyes and see where I was. I wanted it to be fake. Slowly, very slowly, I looked around the room. This was what was happening now. I felt my chest tighten as the panic set in.

I breathed slowly, trying to bring myself down.

One thing at a time. Get out of bed.

I felt my body instantly get heavier. I wanted to close my eyes and sleep for all eternity. I threw the covers off my body and sat up, feet hitting the shag carpet gently. I rubbed my eyes then put my head in my hands, elbows on my knees.

Good job. Now go take a shower.

I spent the next few hours doing that. Giving myself a small task and trying to accomplish it.

I felt the need to get out of the motel. It was stifling. I had all of this free time and remaining in once place too long was going to be the death of me. I became complacent, easily bored, and could zone out and into another world where I was running around a track Never ending. Unyielding.

I looked at myself in the mirror. The bruise was fading. If I worked really hard I could just cover it up with make up. It took me twenty minutes. I still looked a little dark, but that didn't matter. No one would really notice. I had changed drastically over the past week.

I laughed at myself and had to bite my tongue to stop the laugh from turning into sobs. I had make up I couldn't ruin, especially since I needed to get out.

I put some money in one pocket, my keys in the other, and my phone in a back pocket. I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror again. I didn't know who this person was anymore. I didn't know what was going to happen to me. I did know that I just had to handle my life one moment at a time.

* * *

><p>The air felt wonderful. I inhaled deeply letting it fill me out and filter through my body. Fall air always made me feel rejuvenated. Going for a leisurely stroll in the fall months was a favorite pastime. Now, even though I knew everything around me was terrible, it felt good to just walk. To just take in the colors and the gentle breeze and the clean smell of fall.<p>

For the first time in a long time I felt clean.

I knew it was just temporary. I knew my feelings would fall away as soon as the sun started to set and I didn't have the sunlight and the gentle breeze to keep my company.

My feet were walking of their own accord. They were on a path that my head wasn't wrapped around.

I could make it through moments. Moments were easy. I could overcome moments because they were all I focused on. They were simple tasks that if I devoted my full attention to I could get done then move on. As soon as life became living again, I knew I was screwed.

I turned a corner and things felt familiar, something seemed calm in me. My feet continued to move me.

I couldn't keep living in moments forever though, right? Didn't I want to live? Didn't I want to just feel and love and live again? Laugh with my friends. Sing with them. Not be afraid of every little sound and every man that came around me that I didn't already know. Didn't I want more than just moments I had to make it through?

I walked for a long time. My body felt tired, there was just the beginning of a bit of sweat on my forehead and then I stopped in front of a house.

I was horrified. I thought I had walked home. But I hadn't. I had walked to Brittany's.

I stood in front of her house, staring. I didn't know what to do. I felt numb. I couldn't move. I wanted to run. I was afraid of being near her. I wanted more than anything to just tell her everything, to let her take care of me but I couldn't put her through what I was feeling. I couldn't do that to Brittany, she had been so good to me. She was always good to me no matter what.

I felt all of these emotions fighting within me. It sounded like thunder in my brain.

The world around me was silent. And I continued to stand there like a creepy. Internally grappling with myself about what to do, where to go.

"Santana?"

I jumped. I had been so immersed in myself that I hadn't heard the steady footfalls coming towards me. Nor had I noticed the long legged, blue eyed blonde beside me.

I turned toward her but couldn't bring myself up to look from the side walk. She was wearing running shoes and shorts.

"What're you doing here?" She didn't sound angry or upset. She was curious. But when wasn't she? Everything was an adventure for Brittany. Everything. She was enchanted by the world instead of seeing all the horrors it could offer. Even with all the bad around her, Brittany still believed in simple things that I wanted to desperately to cling to, like Santa Clause, true love, and that it honestly doesn't matter who you want to be with.

"San?" She stepped closer to me.

I jumped a bit, pulling myself out of my head.

"Hey," it was quiet. Really quiet. I was afraid she hadn't heard me.

"Hey," she said back sweetly. It was that hey that she reserved for me. It was intimate and said to me that she was glad to see me. That I was worth seeing. It made my heart leap. I wanted to hug her.

"Running?" Lame. I was making small talk. Small talk. The most honest and intimate moments of my life had been shared with the girl in front of me and I was making small talk.

"Yeah," she said looking at me with an odd look on her face. I couldn't tell what she looking at, probably my lack of glasses and lack of a bruise.

"Well," I paused. I had no idea what to do with this conversation. I suddenly became very aware of my hands and how they were just there and not doing anything. Oh god, I was nervous. I didn't get nervous, especially around Brittany. "I'll leave you to it then."

I was still looking at the ground. This was a disaster.

"I'm done. I was about to head in and take a shower. What were you doing?"

She seemed to flawless. So secure with herself, so comfortable. She didn't expect anything from me. I felt so much love towards her in that moment.

"I just..." I didn't know what to say. I looked up and met her eyes. She was smiling but when our eyes locked I saw her smile fauter.

"Come on," she said gently and linked her arm in mine. I closed my eyes at the contact. She made me feel okay at the slightest touch when I had spent hours feeling tormented.

* * *

><p>I was laying on her bed staring at the ceiling. The room was quiet except for the sound of Brittany singing quietly to herself in the shower. The door to the bathroom was slightly ajar and that made me feel better. I didn't want to be closed off in this room alone. It was why I had left the motel.<p>

Ugh. The motel. I had to go back there. It was home now.

I surveyed the room. I knew every nook and cranny of it like it was my room. It pretty much was though. I'd spent so much time here with Brittany, doing homework, singing together, talking about our days and Cheerios and...we did a lot together.

The water shut off and I heard the scraping of the shower curtain opening. Through the crack in the door I saw Brittany standing with her back to me.

I loved her body. Yes, obviously I was attracted to her but it was more than that. She was fluid, graceful, and had legs that wouldn't quit. She toweled her body off and then her hair. I watched her. It wasn't sexual, I just couldn't take my eyes off her. I never wanted her to leave my sight. She was comfort and I was starving for anything she would give me.

She turned and caught me looking at her. She didn't look upset or disgusted. She held eye contact with me for a few moments and then turned away, finishing her routine. She dried her hair and made a face at herself in the mirror. She wrapped a towel around her body and then opened the bathroom door fully.

"What do you want to do today?" She sat on the edge of the bed and looked at me curiously.

"Whatever you want." I meant it. I would follow her anywhere at this point and I think she knew it. She could see how lost I was. How tired and vulnerable.

"I know what we'll do." She didn't elaborate further. She stood up, opened her closet and picked out an outfit for the day.

In no time at all we were headed out the door. A huge smile was plastered across Brittany's face. It reminded me of when we were kids. I smiled too.

* * *

><p>I should have known it would be the park. It was so Brittany. It was one of her favorite places. We had spent many days over the summer walking around the trails or just sitting by one of the little brooks than ran through the trees and listening to the sounds around us.<p>

It had been one of the most peaceful times of my life.

Here we were again. Walking on one of the many trails that led through the park. It wasn't that big but it was dense. There were a lot of trees and many different trails that intertwined. There were at least three different brooks and wooden bridges that took you over them. It was so natural and friendly an environment.

I felt relaxed. Like everything would be okay. Part of it was because of the surroundings, but part of it was because of the girl walking next to me. She was my best friend and never forgot that, even when I did.

We were the only ones there. It was starting to get chilly as the day had progressed and people didn't generally spend their Saturday afternoons in fall hanging out in the cold.

"What's going on, Santana?"

I was silent. How could I even begin to answer that? How could I even begin to explain to her that my entire life had gone to hell. That I had become nothing more than fear and anxiety. That I was completely lost in my life and I didn't know how to get out of this mess. That I felt like I was treading water and was about to slip under.

"It's nothing, Brittany."

She was quiet. We kept on walking. A wind blew past us, causing me to shiver. Brittany had brought a jacket. I was stuck in just my long sleeve shirt. She moved closer to me and linked her fingers into mine. Normally, the small gesture in such an open place would have made me look at her like she was crazy. But now, now I was just happy for the contact and the silent support she was offering.

"It's not, Santana. You're getting thinner. You look exhausted all the time. You're never in class."

They weren't accusations. They were statements. Facts. She didn't pressure me. She wanted me to know she knew it wasn't nothing.

"I can't talk about it right now, Brittany." I was surprised at my own honesty. I couldn't. Not here, not now. "I just want this moment."

Moment by moment. That's how I was living. And this moment, well, I couldn't spoil it. I felt like I wouldn't get anymore of them for a long time. I was content for now just holding her hand and walking. I didn't have anything else to give her.

We walked for a long time. Sometimes we talked, but it wasn't anything major. Just little reassurances the other was still there. I needed this from her. Just her. Nothing else. I needed to just be near someone else who wasn't going to question me. Who wasn't going stay on top of me to talk things out. This was what I needed.

The sun started to set.

I didn't like the idea of being outside at night, even though I had slept outside almost every night this past week. The bleachers had at least felt like a fortress. Now, as the sky was becoming thick with oranges and reds, I felt a twinge of panic in the back of my mind.

"Brittany, let's go, okay?"

She looked me straight in the eye and seemed to be searching for something.

"Okay, San."

We walked back to her car. I tried not to show the panic. When we got in her car I locked all the doors and buckled myself in. I relaxed back into the chair. Brittany put the key into the ignition but didn't start the engine. I looked at her. She was staring at the steering wheel.

"What?"

She looked at me. "Do you want to come over tonight?"

We held eye contact for a long time. Too long. I looked away.

"Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to come over with me tonight."

Her eyes brightened and my heart melted. "Awesome." She pulled out her phone and scrolled to her moms name. I could hear the phone ring. The other end picked up.

"I'm going to Santana's tonight if that's okay."

I couldn't hear the response.

"I'll be back tomorrow to help...okay...okay...love you too." She hung up the phone.

"I have to be back tomorrow afternoon to go see my grandmother." She made a face. Brittany hated visiting her grandmother. It was her fathers mother and she had Alzheimers and couldn't remember who any of them were. It hurt her, I knew, because she used to be really close with the women when she was younger. Now, not being recognized, it made the light in Brittany's eyes flicker and her smile falter.

I wanted to kiss away her sorrow.

"We're actually going somewhere else."

She looked at me with an eyebrow cocked.

Time for a little piece of the truth.

* * *

><p>She parked at the far end of the lot, by the staircase that led up to the second level motel rooms.<p>

"Why are we here?" She was looking at me like I was crazy. She turned off the car. "Santana. You shouldn't spend money on a motel, we can totally be together in the house without getting caught."

"No, Brittany, this isn't a sex thing. It's a..." I searched for anything, anything but the truth. "It's like a mini-vacation from all that's going on. To help me clear my head."

She knew I wasn't telling her everything. She knew it. She was looking deep inside of me, to my core, and I was trying so hard not to let her see the rotten center of me.

"Okay." She unbuckled herself and I followed. We got out into the cool autumnal weather. It was nice and fresh and then we both felt the chill begin to sink in. I shut the car door.

"It's kinda fun, isn't it? Like an adventure."

I smiled at her over the hood of her car. "Totally." Brittany brought out the kid in me. I wanted to skip up the stairs with her and lock ourselves in the room and build a fort to hide and sleep in and tell each other secrets in like we used to when we were younger.

My heart stopped.

They hadn't been there when we pulled in. But there they were. Three guys, looking at us.

"Brittany let's get inside." Panic seized me. My chest tightened and I felt faint.

She noticed my face change and looked at me, confused. "What is it, San?"

"Let's just get inside." I walked to the front of the car and watched the three guys. They were heading this way. My stomach lurched. "Please, Britt."

She heard the urgency in my voice, the begging. She looked over her shoulder at the guys approaching us.

"It's okay, let's go." She grabbed my wrist and began pulling me away from the guys and the car. I heard her car click behind us, the alarm set. We walked quickly. I was afraid if we started running they would start running. Like we were prey. I felt myself sway.

I ran into the stairs. I couldn't really tell what was going on. Brittany looked scared. She was watching me carefully. One of the guys made a catcall noise and I thought I was going to lose myself completely and just collapse.

"Please, honey, help me out." I realized then she had been pulling on me to get up the stairs. She had an arm around my waist and the other was holding my hand. We walked, a little slowly, up the stairs.

"Where you going?" They were calling to us. We rounded the stair corner and were halfway up the second flight. "Come on, girls!"

We were on the second level. Brittany leaned over the rail. "Not tonight fellas." She smiled at them.

"Don't you want a beer?" They laughed. They were drunk. I felt my knees wobbling beneath me. Brittany did too.

"Maybe next time." She called down to them. I felt her hand on my waist, she was reaching into my pocket, she pulled out the room key and looked at the the number on it. We started walking. "My friend's already had enough, can't you tell? She can barely walk."

They laughed. They loved her. Why wouldn't they? She put the key in the lock. They made noises. She laughed loudly for them to hear and pushed the door open. She helped me inside and put me on the bed. I watched as she went to the door locked it and bolted it shut.

She was at my side again. My breath was ragged. I was a disaster. I couldn't do anything but try not faint. It was too much. I was reminded of Mark. I knew it was crazy. He had been suave. He had been kind...until. He wasn't a cliché, an angry drunk or anything like that. But any man that I didn't already know sent a shiver down my spine and made me want to curl into a ball.

I had been violated. I had been hit and raped. He had taken advantage of me and had damaged me and left me in the gutter. I had bled because of him.

My breathing became trapped in my throat and I was gasping, choking.

"Santana," she whined. She was nervous. She didn't know what to do and neither did I. This was too much for her and I needed to stop but I couldn't. "Come here."

She helped me lay down on the bed. As soon as my head hit the pillow I curled into a ball and began to cry. I felt her take my socks and shoes off and pull the blanket out from under me.

I held tight onto the pillow and just let it hit me. I tried to forget about Mark but the images of what had happened kept coming back to me. The feel of his hands on mine of him inside of me.

I felt hands on my body and flinched. They moved gently up and down my arms.

Brittany.

She was in bed with me. She wrestled the pillow from my grasp and pulled me in close. I was crying into her neck, tucked under her chin. She had her arms wrapped around me, rubbing my back gently. She would whisper little words of reassurance every once in a while.

If she hadn't been there. If I had been alone. I couldn't finish the thoughts. I felt so helpless anymore, but when she pulled me into her I felt safe.

I felt the tears slow, my breathing returned to normal, slowly, but it was returning.

"Please talk to me, Santana." She was pained. I shifted myself to look up at her. My eyes felt red and my vision was a bit blurred from the leftover tears but she was crying too. It made my heart ache. I was causing this.

"I'm so sorry, Brittany. I'm trying so hard." Tears fell freely. I started to choke on my breaths again.

"It's okay, Santana. Just keep breathing. I've got you."

I knew she did.

* * *

><p>I was awake suddenly. Like I had just remembered that I actually did exist and needed to wake up and live again. I sat up. I was in the motel room.<p>

I was alone.

I felt like something huge had happened, but it was all a dream I was just now waking up from. No, she had been here. I could still smell her.

"Brittany?" I said it quietly. No answer. I turned over. There was a note.

_S._

_I had to go see my grandmother. I wanted to stay but my mom wouldn't let me. We can hang out and talk later, I promise, I just didn't want to wake you up. I love you._

_B._

Had she felt this hollow when all I left for her was a stupid note? Had she felt abandoned? I hated myself. I hated everything. I crumpled the note in an angry fist and threw it at the television. It bounced off the screen with a light bing.

I buried my face in my pillow and screamed. I screamed until I was crying and cried until I fell asleep again.

* * *

><p>It was five. I had been sleeping on and off for hours. I guess I was making up the lost sleep. I didn't call Brittany on the phone in the hotel room or hear from her. It was probably for the best. I needed to come down off of this high I was feeling.<p>

Things were far from okay.

I needed to get it together. I was sitting on my bed, still tangled in the blankets.

Moment by moment, Santana. Moment by mother fucking moment.

I inhaled slowly. Everything would be okay if I could just do something to keep my mind busy.

I grabbed my bag from the foot of the bed. Homework. I had Spanish homework. Easy enough. I opened the text book and did every single problem on the next three pages.

Honestly, they shouldn't let me in the class. I was a native speaker. I kept doing homework for what felt like hours but turned out to be only twenty minutes. I was too afraid to go outside. I threw my things onto the floor. I was restless.

I picked up the phone and dialed a number.

"Main desk."

"It's 9A. I need a wake up call."

The voice sighed on the other end. "What time?"

"Um..." I thought. I needed a shower and time to get to school. "Six thirty."

"Fine." The line clicked.

What great service. I set the phone back on the receiver.

The room was deafeningly quiet. I opened the bedside drawer. There was a copy of the Bible and a remote control for the television. I grabbed the remote.

After ten straight minutes of flipping through channels I turned off the television and slammed the remote on the bed. I needed to cool down. This was too much. One minute I was a zombie, the next, crying hysterically, the next I was angry and felt like I was pent up, like any second I would boil over.

Scratch that, I was boiling.

I went to the bathroom, stripped off my clothes and took a shower.

I felt relaxed as soon as the water hit me.

* * *

><p>After the shower I felt better. Showers always did that for me. They were almost like a mini-rebirth. A time to recharge and regroup. Alone time to just be without any outside force working against me. I double check my Spanish homework, not surprised to find half of my answer wrong. Mistakes a child would make. I went to the main building and did my laundry, avoiding the creepy desk clerk. I ate the rest of my tortillas, but was still starving.<p>

I ended up lying in bed, staring at the wall, thinking.

I knew this wasn't going to last much longer. I knew I couldn't last much longer. I knew that things were about to come crashing down around me. I could feel it. I was trying to hold onto so many things that I was going to end up losing everything. I was going to burst and it was going to be messy and it was going to hurt but I didn't care.

Honestly, I wanted it to end. I just had no idea how to make it all stop. I had been trying so hard to be okay that it was never option to not be okay. And I was not okay. I wanted help. I needed help. But I just couldn't let myself be the one to do it.

I was too wrapped up in myself. I felt like I had pulled layer over layer over layer of anger and confusion and fear over me until I was suffocating in this cocoon.

I fell asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>This was really hard for me to write. So much angst. So much I relate to. I was afraid to drag it out, so I just sat down and wrote it in one sitting. I think that's why I think it's so bad. I was too close to it for too long. This chapter was almost as many words as the first, but definitely the most pages. 13 by my count. I hope you liked it. Next chapter is going to be a bit shorter and then I'm going to have to re-evaluate what's happening next. Please review, I love reviews. I get really nervous that people are going to hate what I write and your reviews just make my days sometimes.


	8. Chapter 8 Fever Pitch

**AN:** I'm trying to write a story I would want to read. Not that I want to read about Santana's pain, but how she handles the situation, her emotions, everything. Your feedback is wonderful, as always. This chapter is shorter, but I promise it's totally worth the read.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8: Fever Pitch<strong>

When I was younger I was trapped in a closet for two hours with two other girls. It was an accident, actually. I don't exactly remember how we had ended up in there, but one of the boys that had been playing with us locked the door and we were stuck. All the adults were downstairs celebrating. We were at a party, I remember that. The kids had all run off, no one thought to look for us for two hours.

I had no resentment, it's one of those funny stories you can tell, you know? Still, we all reacted differently. One girl, she huddled in the corner, crying her eyes out and had a panic attack every five minutes. She thought we were going to do there and she voiced this opinion every five seconds. It was annoying.

The other girl, she was pissed. She spent most of the time banging on the door, screaming, crying, trying to actually break the door. She hurt herself kicking and screaming like a lunatic.

Me? I sat on a trunk in the closet and watched them fall apart. I knew someone would come get us. It's not like we were going to be left here. Sure, it sucked, but it wasn't like we were doomed. So I was calm and tried to get the other two to calm down and see that we were going to be fine, it just sucked a lot right now, but it wouldn't suck forever.

Lately, I feel like I'm trapped in that closet again. I keep alternating between myself, the crying girl and the angry girl though.

Today I was me. That was a good start.

The first bell of the day went off like a gunshot. It rang through my bones. I picked up my books and ran to class. I had been waiting in the library.

I felt a lot better this week. I felt well rested and clean. I felt like the weekend had been one huge dream and that school was the reality I had woken back up to. A warm bed and a shower had done wonders. So had Brittany.

I missed her terribly.

Moment by moment. I knew that when the final bell rang I would have no where to go and the hopeless feeling would build in me all week. It would take over who I was and make me into someone else. It had been slowly turning me into this person I didn't know.

Just get to English. Worry about everything else later.

I made it in the door just as the bell rang. I wasn't late. Good start.

I handed in all of my made up homework. The teacher smiled at me. I tried to smile back. Things were going okay. I was okay. I promised myself I was okay. I took notes while the teacher lectured. It was hard to stay focused. I would zone off and just think about everything. It was hard to care about school or Glee or anything else. I even felt like Brittany was taking a back seat to all of this turmoil that was swelling inside of me.

The idea made my heart feel heavy. I didn't want Brittany to take a back seat to anything. I wanted her as my only thing.

I wonder what she would say to me when I saw her today.

I was going to Glee. I had to. I couldn't skip anymore classes. I needed to get things back on track so people wouldn't start asking questions. One week. I had allowed myself one week. Now it was time to become the Santana Lopez I had been. It was time to rule the school again, get back on Cheerios. I wasn't going to be defeated by what had happened.

It was my fault anyway. I had to live with it, not anyone else.

When the bell rang I packed up my books and left with the other students. It felt good to be part of the student body again. I walked in the hallway like I belonged there, not hiding along the edges. This wasn't going to be that hard.

I filed into the choir room. Everyone was there already. We were so lame. Desperate to get to Glee. People were talking, a few people flicked glances at me then went back to their conversations. I took a seat in the back row next to Brittany.

"Hey," I said it as normally as I could. It felt lame, though. We had been like strangers this week and our times together didn't feel real.

"Hey," she said turning to look at me. Her eyes were bright. I was hoping she could see the change in me.

_I'm trying, Britt._

I wish she could read my thoughts.

"I'm sorry I had to leave," she started to explain.

"It's cool, we're fine." I meant it. I didn't want to dwell on what had happened. Moment by moment.

She linked pinkies with me and smiled. I looked around the room. I felt at home. I felt safe. I loved these people even if they were social rejects but that didn't really...

What was she staring at?

Berry was looking at me. As soon as I caught her eye she turned back around in her seat.

I had forgotten. She had seen me with my bruise. But I was fine now. Make up covered it up. I looked okay, tired, but not hurt.

The bell rang.

"Okay guys," Mr. Schue began, as he always seemed to. He looked up at me then glanced at Rachel who nodded at him as if in confirmation. "We've uh, we've got some work to do, sectionals is coming up."

I stared at him hard then looked at Rachel who was again looking at me.

What was going on? I felt my chest tighten. My mouth was slightly open and my eyebrows were knit together. I felt my body become rigid.

"San?" Brittany whispered beside me. I had dropped her pinkie and looked back at Mr. Schue. The class had gone quiet. The air had changed.

"What?" I directed it at them. They were conspiring. Horror grabbed a hold of my throat. I was reminded of Mark and I felt everything drain out of me. My resolve, my new hopes, my confidence.

She had told him what she saw.

"Santana?" It was Mr. Schue. He looked concerned. It was more than just concern for a student who had a sudden outburst. It was genuine concern. He knew.

_He fucking knew._

"What did you tell him?" I shot out of my chair. I saw Brittany flinch beside me. Everyone turned to look at me, except Rachel.

"You know I'm talking to you!" The words came out louder than I had wanted. I felt my chest heaving.

I was the angry girl trying to beat her way out of the closet.

Rachel turned around slowly to look at me. She didn't look scared like I had hoped. She looked sad.

"Don't feel sorry for me, Berry!" I felt tears stinging at my eyes and tried desperately to hold them in. People in here had seen me cry. But not like this. This was different. This was my thing. I had to do this alone.

"Santana, I think we should go to Ms. Pillsbury and talk." It was Mr. Schue. His voice was gentle and he was looking at me like all he wanted to do was help.

I started trembling. I was incensed. They couldn't plot behind my back like this. I felt betrayed. Brittany put a hand on my wrist but I pulled away from. I pulled away from all of them.

"What's going on?" Artie asked it quietly. I looked around. They were all staring at me. Most of them looked confused but some looked concerned, worried.

"I don't need you," I didn't know who I was talking to. I grabbed my bag and swung it on my shoulder. I had to get out of here.

"Santana wait," it was Mr. Schue.

"No," I yelled at him. He had stepped towards me. "You can't do this behind my back. You don't know what I'm doing and I don't need you to think you can help."

I knew I wasn't making sense but I couldn't stop the words from coming out. I was crying hard. My chest heaving. I could hear people muttering and I heard a chair scrape across the floor. Someone stood up. I felt her hand on my shoulder as she tried to pull me into her. I pushed her away.

"No." The word was full of venom.

"Santana, we need to go to Ms. Pillsbury." It was Mr. Schue. "Rachel told me what she saw." He was speaking quietly but I knew they could hear.

"Rachel needs to keep her mouth shut." I spat the words at him. He put a shoulder on me and I pulled away.

They knew. They all knew. They were all staring at me.

I felt faint. I took a few steps forward and everything went black.

* * *

><p>I was laying back. Someone was holding my hand in both of theirs. I knew it was Brittany. I just knew it. I could tell by the way her fingers laced in mine. I wanted to respond to her touch. To grasp her hands too and pull her close to me. I needed her now more than ever.<p>

The voices stopped me though. People were talking around me.

"She looks like she hasn't had a proper meal in a week."

"She's hasn't been going to classes either. I don't know what to do with her."

"Brittany, what do you know?"

I felt her adjust. "I don't know." She sounded like she had been crying. I squeezed her hand, I couldn't stand to hear her sad. "San?"

I turned onto my side and opened my eyes. I was in the nurses office. I looked at her. Her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears. "Shhh," I whispered to her. I didn't want her to be sad. It made my heart hurt and I knew it couldn't take anymore today.

"She's awake?" Mr. Schue.

People shuffled around and came into my view. I was curled up on the bed-like thing that the nurse had in her office. The leather-like material felt horrible underneath me. Mr. Schue, the nurse, Ms. Pillsbury.

"What happened?" I didn't look at them. I kept my eyes locked on Brittany.

"You fainted, San." Her voice was quiet. "You woke up for a while but you were hysterical. Puck had to carry you here." She looked like she had just gotten really bad news.

"I don't remember." I didn't. I remember all of them looking at me. Waiting for me to scream again. I remembered that Rachel had told Mr. Schue about what she had seen in the bathroom. I couldn't stay here.

I sat up quickly and felt nauseous. I closed my eyes and hunch over, hand still locked in Brittany's. People made a lot of noises around me. I felt a strong hand pushing me onto my back. Male hands. I flinched and curled in on myself.

"Please talk to me, San." When I met her eyes she looked desperate.

"Santana, you need to lay down or you'll get sick." It was the nurse. She bustled around the room and then left. There were other sick students to attend to.

"I can't with all of these people here." I whispered it but they all heard me. They were all focused on me.

"Santana." Ms. Pillsbury. Her voice was quiet, gentle. She was in counselor mode. "I know that you're afraid right now, but we need to know what's wrong." She was silent. I could feel the tension in room. I wanted to reach out and touch it. "Has someone been hurting you?"

I felt my face contort with trying to keep all of the emotions in. They were going to find out and know about me.

I heard their reactions. Mr. Schue and Pillsbury muttered to each other. Fucking adults. I was right here. I'm the problem. There was no point whispering about it.

"Santana," it was Brittany. I met her eyes. "Tell me. Please tell me. I want to help you."

That's when it all broke. Something in me broke. I couldn't hide anymore. I couldn't handle this constant battle. I didn't want to just survive, I didn't want to scrape by or live moment by moment. I wanted to live. I wanted to live with Brittany and laugh and kiss her without being terrified.

"It was after we fought. When you said we couldn't do this anymore." I was breathing hard and shaking. I couldn't do this. I had kept everything locked deep in me. I had been fighting it from spewing out of me for so long that it hurt as I talked. It hurt so much.

"I just was so afraid of telling people and losing you. I didn't know what to do. It was all so hard, Britt. I was so afraid and I couldn't imagine being without you. But I was tired," I stopped and took a deep breath that came out as a sob. The tears had started again. "I was tired of hiding everything. My parents, they saw me upset and I cried so hard and I just told them. I told them I wanted to be with you." I shut my eyes and felt my body shudder. My sobs had begun to shake my entire body.

"God, w-why does this hurt so much?" It hurt to cry, it hurt to say this. Brittany was still looking at me. She was crying too. I wish she wouldn't it made my heart ache harder.

"I told them. I told them I was in love with you and they just," I couldn't talk anymore. I sobbed. I let it all pour out of me. I was wailing. All the pain from the last week, the feeling of abandonment just flowed through me. It was like I was reliving it. I felt the same emotions I felt that night.

"Th-they kicked me out," I choked, trying to talk through the sobs. "They said I couldn't be a lesbian. They didn't want me anymore. They didn't" I couldn't go on. I was sobbing so hard my entire body shook. I felt cold down to my bones. I curled in on myself and just let it flow out of me. I couldn't hold on anymore.

I couldn't.

It was like someone was driving a stake into my heart and just watching as I bled everything out. I felt exposed, vulnerable, raw. I hated it. I hated everything. I hated the fact that it had only been a week and I was this messed up. I hated myself more than anything.

I felt someone moving me. I didn't want to move. I realized it was Brittany, she was trying to sit me up. I helped her, trying not to get tears and god knows what that was dripping from my face on her. She didn't care though, she pulled me into her and I wrapped my arms tight around her neck, burying my face into her. I inhaled her scent and tried to breath normally.

"They took my car and my phone. I w-walked to sc-chool and slept under the bleachers." I remembered that night so vividly. My face felt hot. The tears left scorch marks down my face and I was afraid they would burn Brittany.

"I'm s-so sorry, B." I mumbled into her chest.

"No, San," she was trying to talk through her tears. "Don't worry."

"D-don't be s-sad, B. I know it's my fault." I needed her to understand I didn't expect her to fix this. I knew that this was my fault.

"No, honey, no." She was stroking my back gently. "No it's not."

"They j-just didn't want me a-anymore. I-I slept here for," I paused as a sob tore through my body. "For a week."

I couldn't stop talking. I couldn't stop now that I had started.

"I got hurt. I h-hurt s-so m-much." It was becoming impossible to talk in between sobs.

"I-I'm s-so sorry." I sobbed into neck. She kissed the top of my head and I didn't hold back anything. I poured out all of my sorrow into Brittany and hoped she wouldn't hate me when she saw what I had become. Hoped she wouldn't hate me for putting this on her.

I heard other voices, someone said something to Brittany but I was too far gone.

I felt everything come alive inside me. It seemed to course through my body and hurt me hurt me hurt me. It flowed out of me through my tears. The more I cried, the less it hurt.

After five straight minutes of just my cries I felt my body coming down. I felt my breathing even out and I realized where I was and what I had done.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to be angry at myself but I couldn't.

Honestly, all I wanted more than anything in the world was for an adult to fix everything for me.

I hiccuped into Brittany's Cheerios outfit. "I'm sorry," I whispered to her. My throat burned. My face felt swollen and impossibly hot. I felt sweaty and my face was wet.

"No, Santana, no," she soothed. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"I saw your bruise. I didn't say anything. I was so, so stupid." She choked on the last word.

"No, Brittany." I pulled myself slightly away from her. I was looking her dead in the eye. "You weren't stupid, you're never stupid."

"I should have helped you. I should have known. I'm so sorry, Santana." She was crying, quietly. She kept wiping her tears away as they fell slowly.

"I wouldn't let you near enough me to help." I leaned my forehead against hers and closed my eyes. I reached for her hand and found it quickly. We laced our fingers together. "I never let you near enough to help."

The words hit hard and I felt a sob jump to my throat. But I felt okay. For the first time in a long time I felt okay. I turned my head slightly to look around. Mr. Schue was watching us while Ms. Pillsbury talked to him. He had tears in his eyes.

We made eye contact for a brief second before both looking away.

* * *

><p>I had been in Ms. Pillsbury's office only once before a long time ago. It still looked freakishly clean. The blinds were down though, but not closed. People could see in if they looked, but no one was making an effort to look in. This instantly made me feel better. The blinds were always pulled up and the office was usually open, but this way was good. I wouldn't be able to talk if they were open.<p>

"Are you sure you're okay to talk, Santana?" She was sitting behind her desk.

I nodded. I felt heavy. I just wanted to sleep but I knew this had to happen. Brittany was with me though, so it would be okay. She had been told to go back to class but I had immediately started sobbing. I hadn't meant to but I was raw. I couldn't hold anything back anymore. I needed her. I physically needed her. I'm surprised they had allowed her to stay with me.

Mr. Schue had gone back to class.

Here we were.

"How did you get your bruise?" The make up had been removed. The bruise didn't look that bad to me but everyone had reacted to it.

I was silent. I knew that panic wanted to spread through me but I just didn't have the strength to feel it. I was spent emotionally. "It was my first night here. I couldn't see well and ran into a pole under the bleachers. Hurt like hell."

"Your father never hurt you when he kicked you out?"

I bristled. He was wrong for throwing me out but my dad would never hurt me like that. "No, my dad didn't lay a hand on me." I held eye contact with her. I was surprised she didn't look away. I did.

I looked down then at Brittany. She smiled at me gently and I felt okay.

"I just need to make sure I understand that he didn't hurt you."

"He didn't."

She was silent. Thinking.

"Social services aren't going to like, come take Santana away, are they?" It was Brittany. She surprised us all.

"What?"

"I saw on this show the kids were being treated badly and they were taken away. They had to live elsewhere from their friends. They're not going to do that, are they?" Her hand tightened on mind. My heart went out to her. I wanted to hold her, she looked like a scared child.

"Well, Brittany," Ms. Pillsbury began gently.

"I'm eighteen. What can they do? I'm an adult now."

"That does pose some issues. But we don't want to pull everything away. Mr. Schuester and I have been talking and we want to speak to your parents and see if they can't be reasoned with. Maybe get some family counseling involved."

I exhaled swiftly. They were just kidding themselves if they thought that would help.

"Where does Santana get to live until then?"

People knew now. I didn't feel anything towards the idea of that because I was so drained of everything but now...there were still so many problems. They wouldn't be fixed by people knowing. I had just screwed up again.

Ms. Pillsbury watched us closely, switching back and forth between the two of us. I looked at Brittany who was looking at her lap, thinking hard. I squeezed her hand comfortingly.

"Well, here's what we think should happen now."

I listened harder than I ever had.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>So this was really easy to write but hard to capture. I really wanted you to feel all of Santana's emotions flowing out of her. But she was just so ready for people to help her that writing it took very little time at all. I hope it's good. I want you all to know that I'm usually not this dedicated to writing things, I just love this story and Santana. Plus, I don't think my updates will be as swift as they have been. I have other stories I want to write. Thanks again for the reviews!


	9. Chapter 9 Perspectives

**AN:** So, this is like...turning point number one in the story. Thanks for the awesome reviews and favorites! They're always appreciated.

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><p><strong>Chapter 9 | Perspectives<strong>

"She looks like she hasn't had a proper meal in a week."

"She's hasn't been going to classes either. I don't know what to do with her." I countered. I didn't, honestly. Santana had always been a handful of student.

To see her this raw, sitting there crying into Brittany's shoulder made my heart ache. I had a lot of students, I couldn't keep an eye on all of them. I couldn't be there for all of them no matter how hard I tried and I knew that. But this, this was different. This was Santana from Glee.

The Glee kids were a special case. They were my favorite students, regardless of how bad their Spanish grades were or whatever drama they were sharing each week. They were good. I saw it in every single one of them. They were good and strong and talented.

And I had failed one of them this week.

How had I just let this slip past me? I could always blame it on Santana. She's always been tough, hard to reach, hard to be around. She also never showed any weakness and on the rare occasions she did Brittany seemed to be there for her. Had I just expected Brittany to be there for Santana?

Had I just thought Santana was too much of a handful and too stubborn to approach? We all had seen the changes. Not just me. The kids in Glee. When she got kicked off the Cheerios and started coming to class in those ridiculous glasses the kids wore when they were drinking every night, I thought she was just partying too hard and would straighten out.

The truth of the matter was I needed to be brutally honest with myself. If Finn had come in like that or Rachel or Quinn or Artie, would I have done something?

Yes. I would have. I would have asked about them. Talked to them.

Sure, I had let Santana stay in my office one time but she had been so dismissive afterward. She had skipped class and I just figured she would snap at me and cause me more trouble than I needed. I had Glee and my Spanish classes and Booty camp and Emma and it was a lot of work.

The students came first though. I forgot that.

Now I had to live with this. Santana, this proud, strong individual reduced down to this frail person. She looked small, like a child.

Brittany was whispering to Santana. "She's awake?" I asked. I wanted to know what was wrong with her, what had happened. I wanted to fix what I hadn't fixed before. What I had been too busy to see. Emma, the nurse and I moved closer to her, but she wouldn't meet our eyes. She only had eyes for Brittany.

It wasn't really a secret they were close but lately things were different, they were distant from one another, almost like they were fighting. Whenever Santana was in Glee they didn't talk.

"What happened?" Santana asked quietly. I didn't know if her voice was gone or if she was just scared to talk.

"You fainted, San." Brittany told her about fainting in the choir room. The image of the young girl falling flashed in front of my eyes. It was always scary. As a teacher you do everything you can to make students reach their potential. To see them at their worst is almost too much.

Rachel had told me she saw I bruise. I wasn't sure how to handle it. I had planned on talking to her after class. Waiting for the opportune moment. I didn't know what it meant, honestly. I figured something was wrong, she had been acting strange but I had no idea Santana had become so fragile. She had gone over the deep end. She needed help. Adult help. She had needed my help and I had let her down.

She shot up quickly and all the color drained from her face. I put a firm hand on her and helped lower her back down. The nurse was talking to her but all I could concentrate on was how cold she felt to my touch. Like something had drained out of her.

Emma spoke. "Santana." Her voice was quiet, gentle. "I know that you're afraid right now, but we need to know what's wrong. Has someone been hurting you?" I knew Emma cared for these kids as much as I did.

Brittany and Santana had a connection I didn't fully understand. They were intimate and when Brittany asked Santana to talk to her I honestly felt like I was intruding. I backed away to give the girls room and I listened. Santana seemed to crumble before us. She sobbed hysterically and told us everything.

Her parents had kicked her out for being in love with Brittany. She had been living under the bleachers.

Her words punctured me. They sunk into my heart and sat there, weighing me down.

She had been living outside for a week and I hadn't taken the time to notice. My heart went out to her. She was in so much pain that it moved her physically. I couldn't help but blink away the tears that had formed in my eyes. Brittany held her and I leaned against the counter, looking at my shoes.

I had been so stupid.

"I don't know what to do with this." I said the words quietly to Emma. Santana was too far gone in her moment with Brittany to hear us talking about her.

"I know it's hard, but these are the realities of our world. Santana has been through a lot and we just need to be there for her." Emma was watching me closely.

I met her eyes and I felt my heart beat for her. "How, Em? What do we do here? Her parents don't want her. Do we call social services?" I didn't want social services to pull Santana away from school and Glee and all of her friends. It would be the opposite of what she needed. She needed to be bathed in our warmth and love for her, not moved to another random family.

I had a million thoughts swirling in my head. All I could think is how could someone ever throw their child out onto the streets. If Santana were my daughter...

Emma's hand on my arm pulled me back to our conversation. "Well, Santana is eighteen, but still, she's in school. I don't know what social services would do. Maybe the Pierce family could take her in."

I held Emma's eyes and I knew in that moment what needed to be done.

* * *

><p>She had stopped crying. That was a good sign. Maybe she would talk to me now.<p>

"Are you sure you're okay to talk, Santana?" I asked cautiously. I knew she had moved past the point of not being able to talk. She would have to let it out now.

She nodded, barely. It would have to do. Brittany was sitting with her, holding her hand and looking a little lost, as if she was about to lose something. Brittany really should have been in class but Santana was at a stage of great frailty. To send her away could make her panic and that would be detrimental. Brittany could soothe her and I knew she was the only one who could. This was going to be a hard conversation.

"How did you get your bruise?" It looked like it was old, healing, but it was still gruesome to see on such a young face. I had seen abused children before, though.

It never got easier.

I watched her closely. She looked like she was battling with herself internally. "It was my first night here. I couldn't see well and ran into a pole under the bleachers. Hurt like hell."

"Your father never hurt you when he kicked you out?"

Her demeanor changed when I asked the question. She became cold towards me. It was my job to ask these questions though.

"No, my dad didn't lay a hand on me." She locked eyes with me, determined to prove she wasn't lying. I held her gaze but there was something missing from her eyes. Maybe it was the complete lack of love she felt, or the fact she had been homeless for a week, or the fact that she was emotionally drained already, but there was something else there. Something deeper than this sadness.

She broke the contact.

"I just need to make sure I understand that he didn't hurt you."

"He didn't."

I remained silent, watching her. Teenagers thought they knew all the tricks in the book. The truth of the matter was I had spent my entire career watching teenagers lie to me about their problems. About what was happening at home or with other students.

Santana Lopez was lying to me.

Her father hadn't hit her, I believed that. She was far too specific, though. Someone had hurt her.

"Social services aren't going to like, come take Santana away, are they?" Brittany spoke quietly. I turned to her and knew from the pained expression on her face that she was afraid Santana was going to be taken away from her.

"What?" Santana asked turning to look at her.

"I saw on this show these kids were being treated badly and they were taken away. They had to live elsewhere from their friends. They're not going to do that, are they?"

"Well, Brittany," I began gently but Santana cut me off.

"I'm eighteen. What can they do? I'm an adult now."

"That does pose some issues," I began slowly. Will and I had talked about it already. We were in agreement on the matter. "But we don't want to pull you away from everything. Mr. Schuester and I have been talking and we want to speak to your parents and see if they can't be reasoned with. Maybe get some family counseling involved."

She scoffed at the idea. There was the old Santana returning.

"Where does Santana get to live until then?" Brittany asked. She looked at me like I held all the answers, like what I said next would determine her future with Santana. My heart went out to the girl. I looked at Santana who looked like all she wanted to do was be there with Brittany.

These two young girls had nothing but love for each other and it was costing them dearly. I had seen the same type of pain in Kurt's eyes when he had been bullied. All I could do was help the children at McKinley deal with their problems. I never could fix it, they had to, I just had to give them the tools. Sometimes I wish I could just fight their battles for them.

"Well, here's what we think should happen now."

Santana gave me her full attention.

"Mr. Schuester and I have been talking and we think social services would be a bad way to go. Like I said before some family counseling could be really beneficial for your situation, Santana." Her eyes narrowed. I quickly continued. "Until then, you can come stay with us or with the Pierces some nights, I'm sure."

Both girls looked at each other then at me. This was the last thing they had expected.

"Wait, you don't mind if I come and live with you?" Santana looked as if she was on the verge of tears again.

"Oh," I pulled a tissue box from a drawer in my desk and put it on the edge towards Santana. "Mr. Schuester wants to go talk to your parents and see if he can't get them to come around to the idea of seeking some professional help."

Santana was looking at the ground. Tears were falling slowly down her face. I watched as Brittany grabbed a tissue and wiped them away as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

"Santana," I needed her to hear this. She looked at me and for once I didn't see the stubborn person who would take on the world if it tried to mess with her. I saw a scared young girl who looked completely lost. "What they did to you was wrong. Really wrong. I can't even imagine what you're feeling but you have people who love you no matter what. Who don't care who you fall in love with."

She nodded slowly and tried to stop herself from crying harder.

A bell rang.

"I don't want to go around people," Santana said suddenly. Her voice was clenched as if she was terrified.

"It's okay, you can stay here as long as you need to. But Brittany should get back to class."

Santana's other hand instinctively went for the other girls and she lets out a noise that sounded like a whimper. I pretended I didn't hear it for her sake. "But maybe she could go get you some lunch?"

Brittany nods enthusiastically. She looks relieved, like this is something she can finally do.

"I'll be right back," she says to Santana. They hug each other, Santana holding on tightly and then Brittany leaves.

There is so much love between these two girls.

"Santana?" I say it quietly. I need to focus on her anyway, while she's alone.

"Yeah?" Her voice is a croak. She doesn't look up at me. She pulls her legs up into the chair and sits with them crossed, hands in her lap, head down.

"You can talk to me about anything else."

Her body tenses. She's hiding something. "Maybe another day," she says. That's good enough for me for now.

We don't talk. I adjust the pencil holder on my desk until the corner is lined perfectly with the corner of the table.

"What about your sexuality?"

"What about it?" She doesn't put up a fight to the open question.

"You think you're a lesbian. Would you like to talk about that?"

She shrugs and I wait for a response. I want her to open up to me. There's so much she isn't sharing and I can see it eating her alive.

"I'm in love with Brittany." That's all she says.

"She seems to love you too." She does. I can see it on Brittany's face every time she's in a room with Santana.

"She does," Santana says quietly. "But she shouldn't."

The words hit me so hard that I don't have time to react. I don't know what to say to her. I just sit there trying to process her words.

Brittany enters the room and Santana changes completely. They seem to just mesh together. I let them eat while I try to put all of Santana's papers back into her folder.

**AN:** Really short chapter by my standards. But I felt it needed to happen like this. I hope you liked it. I'm not too pleased with it, actually. I think I'm so used to writing as Santana that I couldn't really capture these characters as well. Also, this was as far as m original outline went so I'm working on that, plus some other ideas I have, plus I'm re-editing some older chapters, plus I work a lot. So, may take a while to upload another chapter. Please review! It's always inspiration to write more!


	10. Chapter 10 This Is Where We Are

**AN: **First off, I want to give a special thanks to Sneebot, AngentNote and Kawaikisa for their reviews on Chapter 9. I appreciate the input and the time that you've taken to really write to me how you feel about the story and what I'm doing with the characters.

Secondly, I know this chapter took a little longer than it usually does but I'm trying to take my time and really develop this story. Honestly, I'd only worked out to the part where Santana tells Will and Emma everything. Now I want to go slow and do things right.

Also, I have a new story that I'm working on. You should totally go read it. It's Brittana, Halloween inspired called "Phone Calls and Fright Nights" /shameless promotion. Anyway, enjoy this chapter and review, please!

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><p><strong>Chapter 10 | This Is Where We Are<strong>

Apparently they had a guest room. When Ms. Pillsbury had showed it to me I wasn't surprised that it was spotless and screamed wholesome. Everything was pastel colored and looked like a sweater she would wear. It was nice though, it wasn't outside and it was mine.

At least for now.

I put my bag on the bed and didn't know what to do. Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury were still standing in the doorway. They were just as unsure as I was. The only difference was I didn't have the energy to really make much of an interaction. The silence dragged on.

"Well," Ms. Pillsbury said slowly, dragging the word out a bit. I guess she was nervous. I don't know why though, I was the one that should be nervous. These people were giving me a temporary home. I couldn't mess this up, like, for real. I had to keep it together which was something I wasn't good at at all, especially now. "Do you want me to wash your clothes?"

I shook my head and sat on the edge of the bed. I heard Mr. Schue clear his throat and then he left. He felt awkward, we all did. I didn't blame him.

"I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything, Santana." She said it quietly, as if resigned to the fact I wasn't saying anything else to her. I wanted to though. I wanted to tell her how much this meant to me. How it made me feel like I wasn't this huge joke.

"Thank you," I said it quickly. I felt like if I waited the words would burn my tongue on their way out.

She smiled at me and nodded her head slightly. I appreciated that more than I would have a huge speech about how it was the right thing to do. I didn't need a lecture. I needed time alone. Time alone not outside on concrete.

The bedroom door was open. I wanted to shut it. Lock myself in here and just breath. I had been around people all day. I had been telling people things I had never wanted to tell. I felt raw, exposed, torn up. It wasn't right and it wasn't fair.

The crazy part was I felt better. I felt taken care of and it was a feeling I sorely needed. Something inside of me was still terrified and determined to hold onto my last secret. I couldn't lay myself out on a table for the others to see, examine, comment on. I couldn't.

Sure, I told them I was a lesbian, told them I was in love with Brittany, told them I got kicked out and lived outside but I hadn't told them everything. I still had Mark.

I felt like the room disappeared around me. It was just me and I closed my eyes shut, willing the fear away. No one could ever know.

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><p>Baked chicken, a salad, mashed potatoes. They actually cooked dinner together. I could hear their laughter echoing through the apartment and then they're whispers to try to silence the other. They didn't want to disturb me. Something in my heart had fluttered. Gratitude for them, I think. I had been so deprived of anything that the tiniest things were going a long way.<p>

It was a really good dinner. My first real meal in a long time.

We were sitting at the table, like a family. I couldn't even remember the last time my family was all home at the same time to have a meal together. It was simple, lame really. I loved every second of it.

"Enjoy," Ms. Pillsbury said, smiling at Will and then at me.

I didn't feel right eating. There was something so intimate about the interaction that made me nervous. It made me feel like I was intruding, like I didn't belong. I picked up my fork but didn't eat. I stared at my plate, just watching it.

"Santana," it was Mr. Schue. "It's okay."

"It's just so much," I said quietly, voice cracking. I was exhausted and so was every part of me. It wasn't so much, the food on my plate was perfectly portioned. The words slipped out before I could stop them.

There was a silence. I kept my head down. "We know. But I promise it will be okay."

It was really all I needed to hear. I looked up and we locked eyes. I looked back to my food and scooped some potatoes onto my fork. Heaven. It was pure fucking heaven. They melted in my mouth and I felt instantly better. As I ate more my body felt warm, comforted, relaxed.

They talked about their day, the weather, plans for the week, very casual things. I felt that feeling of intrusion again. Were they keeping the conversation shallow because I was there? Or were they just that boring? I looked at my half eaten plate and felt stuffed. I set my fork down.

"Good?" It was Ms. Pillsbury.

"Yeah," I said looking up at her again. "I'm just so...full. Already."

"Well, from what you've told us you haven't really had much to eat this week." She said it gently, as if speaking in a normal tone of voice would make me shatter. I hated the fact that she saw me as weak but was secretly grateful. I wasn't reading for people to allude to what had happened to me. I was still trying to deal with it myself.

"Yeah," I said lamely. I didn't have a response. "But it tastes really good."

I wasn't sure how to have a conversation with them and I knew they felt the same. We lapsed into silence.

"Well," Ms. Pillsbury began and then paused. "I hope you like your room."

I nodded and pushed some food around on my plate. "Anything's better than the bleachers." I said it so quietly I wasn't sure if they heard me.

They picked up a conversation again and I felt relieved. It took so much energy to do the simplest of things, especially hold a conversation. I didn't want to talk anyway. I had talked enough for the day. All I wanted to do was work on homework and then go to bed.

"I'll take it if you're done?" I looked up. Mr. Schue was standing above me his plate in hand. Ms. Pillsbury already in the kitchen.

"Oh," I said surprised. Something inside of me squirmed uncomfortably. He was so close to me. Too close. "Thanks, yeah." I said it too quickly and jumped out of my chair and took a step back. It was too close.

His eyebrows furrowed and I knew he was trying so hard to figure out what was wrong. I didn't need comfort from him right now. I didn't need comfort from anyone who was a him. He picked up the plate and turned to the kitchen. When he was gone I felt guilty. "Thanks," I said a little louder, hoping her heard.

I stood in the dining room and sighed. Homework. Go do homework. Go do something.

There wasn't a desk in the guest bedroom, but why would there be? I was glad there wasn't though. I didn't want to be left alone in the room again. Too many thoughts were swirling in my head just waiting to slosh over the edge and become reality. I couldn't deal with them right now. The sounds of Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury doing dishes together was comforting. They were so functional. It made me jealous.

I was so appreciative of all they were doing for me even if I didn't show it that well. I just couldn't help but feel this slight bitter twinge every time they were so accepting of me or did something together. How is it they could treat me like a family after a few hours and my own parents had eighteen years under their belt and they discarded me so easily?

Just do homework.

Right.

The table was now clear. I put my books on the table and sat down. I stared at the notebook and textbook in front of me but didn't move.

This was my life.

And it hit me. Like waves crashing so roughly against the rocks. I crumbled underneath them. I was homeless. But I had Will and Emma. Could I call them that? For how long? I wasn't the easiest person to get along with. But it was something. It was nothing. I was nothing.

My chest ached and I felt it, the panic. It spread through me like poison. I felt it in my veins and in my mind. I stood up, pushing the chair back abruptly. It scraped against the floor and I winced. The sound was so loud. Everything was so loud. That thudding. But it was just my heart in my chest, in my ears. I wanted to scream. I felt dread. Wave of dread and I was much more easily hurt than rocks.

I crumbled.

My knees ached. A hand flew to my chest and I groped at the clothing there. I was breathing hard, too hard and I felt light headed. "Oh g-god," I choked out. I couldn't breath right and the room was spinning or I was.

"Will!" The voice was shrill and close to me. It snapped something inside of me and I realized I couldn't see, things were dark. There was a soft hand on my face brushing away tears. I hadn't remembered crying and now that I acknowledged it I felt like my face was on fire and so was the rest of my body.

Ms. Pillsbury was right beside me, kneeling next to me. "Santana, look at me."

I realized then I had my eyes shut tight. I opened them and looked at her, my vision was blurred with unwanted tears and my body was shaking from the erratic breaths I was taking. I couldn't find a steady rhythm. I laughed at myself. I was so stupid. My eyes had been shut.

The laugh made her eyes widen. I was scaring her.

"I-I'm so s-sorry," I choked out in between the breaths. As soon as I said them I wished that I hadn't. I felt floodgates open and I knew I wouldn't be able to quell this thing inside of me. The waves raged on, growing bigger. I collapsed in on myself and buried my face in my hands.

"I know I'm wrong." I was almost yelling. I couldn't control my voice though. I couldn't control anything. The shaking, the crying, the breathing. I was completely gone. I had nothing to hold onto.

"Shhh," I don't know who said them. But I felt arms encircle me and pull me firmly to a body. Ms. Pillsbury. She pulled me close to her and instinctively I grabbed ahold of her. I sobbed into her shoulder, hanging on tight, hoping she never let go of me.

I hated myself in that moment. I hated myself for what I was putting everyone through. For the lying, for Mark, for Brittany, for who I was. What I had become. I would never be the same again.

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><p>"You don't have anything to be nervous about," Ms. Pillsbury said as she parked her car. She and Mr. Schue drove separately considering he had to stay after school almost every day. I had opted to ride with her. My aversion to men was becoming more and more prominent.<p>

"I'm fine," I lied easily. My heart was pounding. I was nervous. Beyond nervous. I couldn't go in there and let them look at me like I was some type of psycho and now that I was living with Mr. and Ms. Perfect I couldn't even skip a class or they'd hear about it.

We walked in together. I had left my duffel bag at the apartment. It felt odd carrying just books. Just what I needed for school and not everything I needed to survive on my back, or shoulder, more accurately. It was still early and not many people had arrived, or teachers for that matter. I walked in with the two of them and we said our goodbyes, each going to their respective offices.

I was left standing there in the hallway unsure of what to do. I knew that neither of them would have minded if I went and spent the time until the first bell with them but I couldn't ask that much of them. I couldn't reach out to them. I sighed. Library it was.

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><p>When the warning bell rang I entered the classroom. There were a few students in there already but the teacher wasn't. Good, I couldn't handle talking to her one on one again anyway. I pulled the papers out of the textbook I had been working on and put them on her desk. I was caught up in English and Spanish now I had to focus on my other classes. They were lame, really. I mean, Glee was easy. I would be fine in there, even though I was pretty sure I was going to be forced backed into the stupidly named 'Booty Camp' once I got myself pulled back together. I also had a filler computer class I would need to make up work for and then Math, my hardest class. My last class was a free period where I was supposed to be a TA for someone, I had forgotten who and it's not like they really even cared what seniors did.<p>

I sat out my desk and pulled out a pen and opened my notebook and textbook. I was ready. This is something I could handle. Take notes, do work, concentrate.

The teacher entered and shut the door. "I hope you all are ready for a class discussion." Some people groaned. I did too. I had read the story, but I didn't want to talk about it.

She stood by her desk and looked down at my papers. My heart started pounding. I really hated it when teachers acknowledged my work or said something about it in front of the class.

"Alright, Mr. Simmons, tell me, what was your favorite part of the story?"

I sighed. I could definitely handle this.

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><p>English had been fine, more than fine. I was fine. She hadn't called on me and I had taken notes of the discussion. I knew there was an essay coming up. But now for the hard part. Glee club.<p>

It felt like it had been eons since I was last in the classroom. I didn't want to see any of them. I didn't want them all looking at me and feeling sorry for me or asking questions. I just wanted to go hide in my corner of the library.

My feet propelled me forward. I felt cold, nervous. My hands shook from just the idea of having to face them. When I turned down the hall I heard noise from the choir room. People were there. I was screwed. I swallowed and tried to stop my feet but they moved forward.

I walked in and stopped just inside the doorway. They all turn to look at me. Every single one of them. Mr. Schue wasn't there yet.

I felt heat rise to my face and panic settle in my chest. I wanted to run, scream. I wanted to yell at all of them to stop looking at me. My hands shook and I clinched them into fists. I had to get out of there.

"Santana," Rachel said gently. She didn't get to feel sorry for me. "How're you feeling?"

I opened my mouth and realized that was a mistake. I was going to yell again. This was her fault. It was her fault people knew. Her fault they were all looking at me like I was a bomb that could detonate at any moment. I needed to get out of the room which had become stiflingly hot.

I took a step backwards.

Then I felt it. A cool hand on mine. It asked for my fists to release and I did. Slender fingers linked into mine and I looked up into sparkling blue eyes. They brought me down. They pulled me back to reality and I felt the panic wash away, replaced by her, by Brittany.

I sighed heavily and looked back down. I could feel her smiling. This was all she wanted, to be with me. Even when I was like this.

I hated myself.

We walked, hand in hand to our seats in the back row and sat together. Everyone was talking amongst themselves. No one was looking at me.

"Thanks," I whispered to her, not letting her hand go. I knew I shouldn't hold on. I knew that she deserved better than me and I knew I hadn't deserved this.

"San," she whispered to me softly. It was more than I could take. Her voice was so sweet my heart melted for her. "You're safe here." I met her eyes and she smiled at me. I just watched her face for a moment.

Mr. Schue walked in and clapped his hands, everyone turned their attention to him, even Brittany. I just watched her. I missed her so much that my heart ached for her. I wanted to touch her. Crawl into her lap and just meld our bodies together like we used to. So effortlessly.

The rest of the day went by fine. I went to all of my classes. I talked to my teachers and they were all very receptive to the idea of me making up work. I had a feeling Ms. Pillsbury had talked to them. I turned in what work I had and during my 'free period' I went to the library to catch up.

It was actually really nice. I didn't have Brittany in any of my other classes so I wasn't distracted. It was just me and my thoughts. It was exactly what I needed. I was able to concentrate, to focus. Doing more than one thing at a time just felt like too much.

My only issue was with my math teacher who grunted at me when I handed him made up work.

It was the end of class. Students were rushing out, eager to rid themselves of school for the day. I had Glee rehearsal for a new piece in half an hour, I was in no hurry. I approached his desk slowly. I wasn't intimidated by him I just didn't have the energy to have a confrontation.

"Mr. Smith," I said. He looked up from his desk and sighed in exasperation.

"What?"

"I just, I have these worksheets and I wanted to let you know I'm going to bring you the rest tomorrow, if that's okay." I said it a little too quickly. I wasn't intimidated by teachers, especially this one. But something had changed in me. Something I couldn't quite understand.

I was becoming very aware of the fact that the classroom was slowly emptying and I was alone with this man. My hands clenched at my side.

"Right, well, just get it together." He stood up from his desk and I took a step back and hit a desk which only caused me to jump. I felt my face drain and fear set in. I needed to get out of the room. It was empty, just me and the teacher.

"What?" He said gruffly looking at me like I was crazy.

I stared at him, wide eyed, turned quickly and walked out of the room. When I was out of sight I broke into a run. There weren't that many people left and they were all heading away from me anyway. I ran and ducked into the bathroom closest to the auditorium. I was on the opposite side of the school where the main population was exiting.

I rushed to the stalls and pushed open all of them. Empty. I was alone.

I went to the sinks and stared at myself in the mirror. I looked washed out, like I was sick. I gripped the counter and tried to breath evenly. I felt it building. The panic. What was I thinking? Why was this happening to me? I couldn't be this unstable. I had a place to stay, I was eating right, I was getting back on track but I was still panicking.

I knew why. I could feel it. I could feel him. A hand went to the fading bruise on my face. I inhaled deeply.

It was like he was there. I felt him on me. Rough hands running all over my body, squeezing at my chest, my thighs, taking what I didn't want to give.

I closed my eyes but he was brighter in my head. It was like I was watching him shove me against the wall. But I didn't go black, they rushed back to me, what I had made myself forget. His hand moving up my thigh, his other arm pinning my hands above my head, his weight on me, pressing me down, forcing out air and forcing in the smell of Mark.

His hands were on me. They were on me again and I couldn't get away.

I felt cold and my body was shivering. My legs were cold. What?

I was alone. No one could rescue me. There was no one to get him out of my head, out of my heart. He was burned into me and I was alone in my battle against him.

I forced my eyes open. He wasn't here, it was just me, fallen onto the bathroom floor. The cold tile was causing me to shake, not the cold concrete of that godforsaken alleyway. I tried to get my breathing under control but I couldn't. I felt fear swallowing me and I didn't have anyway to fight it. It was just me.

"Santana?"

I looked up, still struggling for breath, eyes brimming with tears. I didn't want anyone to see me like this, especially like this.

Brittany. Of course it would be her. I looked down and tried to shut the world out. I didn't want her to see me like this again. I couldn't. As soon as she got involved again I would need her. I would need to have her with me again and she didn't deserve that from me.

She was on the floor beside me, pulling her close. I pushed her away. She sat and just pet the back of my head while I fought my demons. It was like she had done so many times before. No one ever knew what to do with weak Santana except Brittany.

"San, come on." She whispered.

"I'm f-fine." I breathed out.

We stayed on the floor for a good ten minutes. And I started to come down. My breathing returned to normal, my tears stopped, the shaking ceased. I was just exhausted, sitting on the bathroom floor in my high school, wishing the girl sitting beside me would leave me alone to recover in peace. I knew she wouldn't.

"What are you doing here?"

"They sent me to look for you," she simply. She pulled out her phone and texted someone. I frowned. I wanted her to pay attention to me.

"Who sent you?"

"Glee," she said looking back up at me. "We were worried. Mr. Schue was real worried. I came to find you."

Her phone buzzed. She smiled and replied. I wanted to snatch her phone away.

"Well, I'm fine now." I said it with more bitterness than I had intended. But something about her texting someone while I was this needy bothered me, even if I knew that I didn't deserve her full attention. I craved it, though.

"Yeah?" She said it gently, stung by my words.

I grabbed the counter and pulled myself up on unsteady legs. My head was pounding. I ran some water and splashed a handful over my face. "Yeah," I replied looking at her. My mind was screaming to just fall into her arms. I knew she would hug me back. I knew she would kiss me back if I kissed her, but I couldn't.

"Who are you texting?" I didn't mean to sound as bitter as I did, but what if it had been Artie?

"Puck." She smiled at me. She was happy.

"Wait, why?" Puck? Puck? Artie, I understood, but fucking Puck?

"Well," she bit her lip and was bouncing on her heels. "He was talking to Mr. Schue for me, because I don't have Mr. Schue's number and I don't think he knows how to text. But I wanted to take you home, to Mr. Schue's and Puck was asking if it was okay for us to miss rehearsal. I told him you weren't feeling well."

"Oh," I said, genuinely surprised. She was happy because she got to take me home.

"Now," she said in a more serious voice. She put her hand on my arm and stepped closer to me. "Are you okay, Santana?"

My heart pounded like it did when we had first kissed. I needed her. I felt it deep down to the center of my being where Mark would never reach. I needed her and wanted her and couldn't stand the fact that everything that had happened had taken away the one thing in my life I cared about no matter what and who cared about me unconditionally.

"No," I said softly, resisting the urge to burst into tears right there.

I moved forward and kissed her softly on the lips. "No, Brittany, I'm not." She kissed me back and we broke apart. I wrapped my arms around her neck and she wrapped hers around my waist and we stayed like that for what felt like seconds, but I knew was a few minutes. Time with Brittany worked differently.

"I'm going to take you home, okay?"

I knew it wasn't fair. I knew it wasn't right of me to kiss her and need her and ask so much of her but I didn't have anything else. It was all I knew to do.

"You're too good to me and I don't deserve it Brittany."

She pulled away from me and looked at me, confused. She brushed a stray hair behind my ear and let her hand linger on my face. My eyes closed at the touch.

"You're my best friend, Santana. I love you so much and you need me right now. You totally deserve it. You deserve me." Her words hit me hard. Brittany was never stupid. People just never listened to her the way you had to. She saw things differently but she always knew what I was talking about, even now.

I knew she meant what she said, but deep down, I knew she was wrong.

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><p>Brittany walked me to the door and hugged me tight. I opened it slowly, unsure if I was allowed to do that. Should I knock? I stood in the frame awkwardly. I wanted to invite her in but I knew that if she went to my room with me I would want more from her. To feel her.<p>

I opened my mouth unsure of what to say.

"It's okay," she said, sensing my hesitation. "I'm always here." She leaned forward and kissed me gently. It was just enough comfort to make me crave more. I kissed her back, with too much enthusiasm and I felt her smile into the kiss.

"Sorry," I said when we pulled apart.

"Santana," she said taking a deep breath.

"Look, I know, I'm being really unfair." I didn't need another talk about us from her now.

"No, listen," she said sternly. I looked up into her eyes. Her perfect blue eyes that I wanted to bathe in. "I want you to know that I know things are hard, but I'm still here, even after...everything."

"I know I'm just sorry about everything." There was so much to say. So much both of us needed to say to each other, to make the other understand. I could see it in Brittany's eyes.

"Santana?" The voice was Ms. Pillsbury's coming from inside the apartment.

I sighed. I knew I wasn't going to get to talk to her today. I heard footsteps and pushed the door open completely.

"Oh, Brittany," Ms. Pillsbury said brightly. "Would you like to come in?"

"Nah, thanks though. I gotta get home and talk to my cat." I smiled, knowing Brittany literally meant talk to her cat. Lord Tubbington was her confidant. She was going to talk to him about me. That made me feel good. She was still talking about me, at least. "I'll talk to you later, San."

She pulled me into another hug and I inhaled deeply taking in her scent greedily. I needed as much of her as I could get. We pulled apart, our faces close. I was very aware of Ms. Pillsbury standing there. It felt like having a parent watch you get home from your first date.

Brittany smiled and pecked my cheek chastely. A friend kiss. She was gone from my arms and down the hall. I felt cold and empty without her.

We walked back into the apartment in silence. I sat on a couch in the living room and tried to pull myself back together. Ms. Pillsbury sat opposite me.

"Will called," she began. I cut her off.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know if I should just come in or knock and I didn't mean to come home early and..." I trailed off. I didn't know what to say. Bother her? It sounded so weak.

"Santana," Ms. Pillsbury said firmly. I looked up at her. "This is your home now. You can come on in, you can eat what you like, just try to be as clean as possible and keep your school work in order. Also, nine o'clock curfew."

My face contorted without my consent.

"Nine o'clock is late enough on a week night and on the weekend, we'll talk. But that's not what this is about. Will called me and said you were coming home early. He said they couldn't find you for rehearsal and that Brittany found you on the bathroom floor shaking."

I looked away from her and felt hot.

"Were you having a panic attack?"

She knew I was. She also knew I had no reason to, unless I wasn't telling the whole truth.

"Santana, you can tell me anything. I won't think any less of you. I just need to know that you're okay."

No one could ever know what Mark had done to me.

I cleared my throat. "I'm fine. I'm going to go do homework, if that's okay." I stood up quickly.

She looked at me for a long time, searching for something. "That's fine."

I walked away from her but stopped before I left the room. "I really appreciate what you're doing for me. I promise."

I left before she could say anything. I shut the door and fell onto my bed and cried until I fell asleep.

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><p><strong>AN: <strong> I know it's been a while but life has been crazy. I've been spending all of my free time in the hospital with my best friend. He's having a really hard time right now with a family crisis. But I've been typing while I'm with him. He draws, I write. I've been trying to get him to draw some Brittana awesome for this story. He's really good and hopefully he will. Anyway. I really appreciate the reviews/favorites/alerts I've gotten for this story. You guys are totally awesome! I'll update as soon as I can!


	11. Chapter 11 If I Could Stop the World

**AN: **Thank you so much for the reviews and alerts and favorites. It's appreciated, really. Also, I'd like you to know that from here on out I've made a new rule. For every chapter of this story I write, I have to write a chapter for my other story "Phone Calls and Fright Nights." So, things may slow down. That story is a lot harder for me to write. This one just seems to ooze from me.

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><p><strong>Chapter 11 | If I Could Stop the World<strong>

So I went to classes. All of them and turned in homework and got caught up. It wasn't straight A's like it had been at some point but it wasn't failing. I was scraping by and that was enough for now. It was all I could really manage.

Living with Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury wasn't that bad at all actually. They didn't really tell me what to do. It wasn't a free pass to do as I pleased, though. I think they were just afraid of putting too much on me. They didn't want to feel like they were my parents or didn't want me to think that they thought they were my parents or some convoluted thought like that. I didn't think that, though. I knew they just wanted to help.

I went to classes. Glee rehearsals. Stayed away from Cheerios or anyone, really. Brittany was busy and I was too needy to go to her. I laid in bed every night wanting to call her or just go to her house like I had a million times before. It had been okay then when I needed her for something small. Now with all of these real things happening to me I couldn't bring myself to go to her and sometimes I couldn't even remember why.

We hung out a few times. She came over once and we just laid on my bed working on homework, shoulders barely touching, not saying anything to each other. It was horrible. She asked me a few times for help on something and I would help but it felt like a business transaction. Soulless. I knew if I reached out to her I would just crumble in on myself and I wasn't ready to let that happen. Not in front of her.

Life was quiet around me and I tried to just live it and do my best to keep things together. Time healed all wounds, right? Time would heal me and remove the scars Mark had left on me. My bruise was fading, growing lighter every day. Why did I feel so dirty, then?

Why did I never feel like things would get better?

I slept enough, I ate healthily. I even exercised when I thought about it. I went to school, did work, sang in Glee club. Time seemed to be passing differently for me. I never felt bored or tired of routine, it was actually reassuring to know that I would go to school everyday and have homework and rehearsals. I needed things to occupy my time so every task took me as long as I could manage. It had to, I needed to have no time alone with my thoughts and when I went to bed I wanted to pass out as soon as I hit the pillow.

It went on for a week.

And then it happened.

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><p>I walked down the hall to class. I wasn't in danger of being late but I wanted to get there and sit down. Life was tiring for me. Just getting out of bed was a challenge, not in the I stayed up late so I want to sleep longer way, but in the way where I actually thought lying there forever would be a better choice.<p>

There was a lot of noise in the hallway. I looked up from the bag Ms. Pillsbury had lent me, which actually wasn't completely ugly, and saw the source.

Boys.

I hated them solely for their gender. It wasn't just any boys, though. Football players. They had a game coming up and their heads had swollen ten times their normal size. Beiste had whipped them into shape and they thought they owned the school, I could almost smell the testosterone coming from them. They were pushing each other, passing a ball, generally behaving as oafish as they could.

I picked up my pace wanting to sail right past them. Any male made me nervous, especially now and just looking at them put me on edge. I wanted to turn around and go a long route to class, screw being late, I just didn't want to have to face them. I walked quickly.

I didn't see one of the football players get shoved by one of his friends, so when he hit me, I lost it.

A body slammed me into the lockers, pinning me there. All at once the world became quiet and all I heard was pounding in my head and the grunts from the caught off guard football player who was still pressed against me. His smell filled my nostrils and I felt my chest tighten, my stomach churned, my head was light and I fought hard to get him off of me. I pushed and kicked at him and he finally pulled away from me, looking offended, like I had just slapped him.

I think I had. There was a hand print on his face that looked red.

People were looking at me but I was trapped inside my own head. I could feel Mark on me, pressing me against the concrete wall. I dropped my bag and my hands flew to my head. I couldn't contain what was building inside of me.

The football player looked terrified when I met his eyes. He said something to me but I couldn't hear him. I looked around at the people staring and my hands clenched hard.

I ran.

I ran away from it all hoping I could leave Mark behind in the dust.

I didn't know where I was going. All I knew is that I could feel him all over me and inside me and it needed to stop or I would die.

I stopped.

It was the only place I could think of. I wrenched open the door and stood in Ms. Pillsbury's office, breathing harder than I should have been. She looked at me, wide eyed, shocked.

"Santana?" She said voice laced with worry and curiosity. I collapsed into the chair in front of her desk. My legs were weak, my body shook and I felt cold as if I had suddenly contracted the flu. I sat there and got lost in my own head.

He hadn't meant to pin me to the locker, I knew that. But he wasn't even effect by what I had done. He could have over powered me. Any of them at any time. I couldn't ever be alone with another man again because how could I? How could I trust them to not take me like Mark had? How could they not hurt me? It was ridiculous. It was pain. It was real. It was all I was or felt. Fear and dread and this constant turmoil.

"Santana?" She sounded annoyed. I looked up at her, eyes brimming with tears that hadn't yet fallen. She was blurred. "What happened?" Her voice softened.

The hot tears fell from my face and left a burning streak in their wake. They felt like they weighed a ton as they left me and yet I still didn't feel lighter. My head throbbed and my throat was sore and I was sobbing in a heap before I even realized I had been crying.

There was a gentle hand on my back and soothing noises I couldn't discern. Reassurance, comfort.

I cried until I couldn't anymore. I felt drained, more so than usual. I had no strength as I sat in the chair, legs tucked up against me, my head laying on the back of the chair. I kept my eyes down, but I knew Ms. Pillsbury was watching me.

"You need to talk to me, Santana." It wasn't a demand. It was a statement and I think maybe a plea.

"It's nothing," I whispered. I was afraid of talking and having no voice so whispering was where I landed.

She was silent for a moment. "Santana," she began again. I couldn't handle another outreach. I was close to crumbling and I needed to pull myself together long enough to get away from her. I knew coming to Ms. Pillsbury had been weak. I had to handle this alone, not matter what they said.

"Look, I'm just being stupid," I said sitting up in the chair. My voice sounded scratchy, like I had been coughing for a long time. "It's just hard."

"What's hard?" Her voice was quiet.

I wanted to tell her it was hard living with this on top of me. Living with the memory of what he did to me. How he hurt me and violated me and caused me to live in fear. But it had been my fault. I had gone looking for trouble. Right?

"Everything," I whispered without meaning to.

I stood up quickly. "I'm late," I said lamely and left before she could say another word.

I couldn't run from her forever though. I couldn't run from Mark forever, either.

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><p>I skipped lunch and decided a bathroom stall would be a lot better place to pull myself back together than the lunch room. I had recovered my bag. It was still in the hallway. I was pretty sure everyone was afraid to touch it because I had thrown such a huge fit. I had smacked a football player in front of an entire hallway of peers.<p>

I didn't think he was about to run and tell Figgins, so I was okay.

All of those eyes, though. All of those eyes staring at me and thinking about me and being able to see me and how could they not see what he had left on me?

My breathing became erratic and I tried to calm myself. I needed to get it the fuck together or they were going to commit me. I was a wreck and all I wanted was Brittany.

I didn't care if I looked like shit and it would be wrong to use her because we were technically fighting. I needed her. I needed the way she just knew how to hold me right and let me come to her and be gentle. I needed her smell and her unique presence that was always a comfort.

I opened the stall door and splashed water on my face at the sink. I looked at my reflection. My hair was mussed, my eyes puffy and red, face dripping with water.

I hated what I saw. I saw past my face and deep down and I hated what I saw there. I hated what I had become in such a short amount of time. I felt wrong and disposable. I didn't know where the self-hate came from and I even questioned it in the moment but I felt it burning me from the inside out and I knew it was real.

This couldn't just be how life was for me anymore. But I knew it was.

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><p>I went to the rest of my classes. I took notes but I remained silent. I sat in the back, disturbing where people were used to sitting but no one wanted to mess with me. I had gone from running the school to being a freak people were terrified of. The worst part was I didn't care.<p>

It was a long day. I drifted in and out. I barely responded when people talked to me. I just went moment by moment, small steps. It was all I could manage.

I avoided all groups of guys like the plague, taking long ways around the school.

In Glee rehearsal I stayed in the back. I harmonized when I should and I watched choreography ideas without enthusiasm, even when Brittany began dancing I couldn't feel anything. I knew I was watching something that used to excite me and make me feel proud but now I felt nothing. I felt nothing and I hated myself for it.

Brittany's face was lit up and I wanted to join in with her more than anything.

I felt too far gone. Like I had been digging this trench and now I really couldn't get out of it. I couldn't stop and the more I tried to deal with things the more dirt caved in around me. I was being buried alive, drowning in this filth that I felt deep inside of me.

All I wanted to do was sleep.

When Glee was over I walked with Mr. Schue to his car. I buckled myself in and turned away from him, curling in on myself physically and emotionally. He scared me. I knew he was helping and doing the opposite of what Mark had done but he still scared me. He still had that ability in him.

I closed my eyes and focused on breathing.

"Emma told me what happened today." He just said it, just so that I knew.

"Okay," I replied not looking at him.

"She's really worried about you, Santana. So am I." His tone was genuine.

I knew they were and I was trying but I just needed some time to sort this out and no one seemed to realize that. Everyone was just walking around like nothing was happening but my entire world had been shattered and I was barely able to keep the pieces together for more than a few hours at a time. I wanted to pause everything and everyone and just deal with this but that wasn't allowed and I couldn't tell anyone anyway. I couldn't tell them so they didn't know and they couldn't let me take a break.

"Okay," I said. I didn't know what he wanted from me. I had nothing left to give.

We sat in an uncomfortable silence. I felt like I was suffocating. I wanted the car ride to be over so I could jump out this small space I was being forced to share with him. It was too much.

"I contacted your parents."

My body tensed. He sensed it and kept on.

"They want to see you. They've been too afraid of going through the school to get a hold of you because of the repercussions they might have had to deal with."

I scoffed. "Oh, really?"

"Santana they want to talk with you."

"Then why didn't they turn my phone back on and call me themselves?" I sounded angry. It had welled up in me suddenly. They didn't get to just feel bad and apologize and be done. I felt the anger boil in me. The rage, the hate. I wanted to lash out, hit something. Hurt someone. Hurt me.

Mr. Schue was silent for a long time. "They want to meet with you."

"No fucking way," I snarled.

"Santana," he said loudly, shocked at my outburst. "Language." His eyebrow was furrowed together. He had never had to reprimand me outside of school. I didn't like it. I wanted to tell him to go to hell. I knew that wasn't right though and I knew I wasn't angry at him.

Suddenly I was drained. I slumped in my seat and felt nothing. I let my mind wander and wasn't even listening when Mr. Schue spoke to me. I just wanted to get away from him and sleep. Sleep and never wake up again.

"We'll work up to it," he said after a few minutes.

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>This was so easy and hard to write at the same time. You have to realize that there is so much going on with Santana that sometimes I feel like I can't do it justice. I know this is shorter too, but I'm building, again. Thanks again for showing this story so much support. It means a lot.


	12. Chapter 12 What Was

**AN:** Screw my new rule. I needed to write this.

Thank you for the support, I can't stress to you how much it means.

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><p><strong>Chapter 12 | What Was<strong>

The rest of the week was a blur. Moment by moment. Time was just something I needed to pass so I could start to heal, feel better, recover and become who I once was. So things could go back to being how they used to be, even though deep down I knew they never would.

I would never be the same.

When Friday hit, I hadn't seen it coming. Once upon a time the weekend used to be the best part of my life. Always there was a party or something for me to do. Always, I was invited to go hang out or I would spend time with Brittany or we would party. There was always something for Friday and Saturday and Sunday I would recover. Tale as old as time.

Now I craved to be alone because I was afraid being around others would make me want to talk and open up. At the same time, though, part of me was terrified of being alone. My head had become full of so much bad that I couldn't stand to be there and lack of interaction was just the sound of loneliness and it echoed deep inside of me and chilled my bones.

It was a constant back and forth battle. I needed the time alone to settle myself after trying not to panic all day. School was particularly hard. The only time I felt okay was in Glee and that was an hour out of seven I had to spend working not to fall to pieces. After I had calmed myself I wanted to be around people. I didn't want to be alone. A calm head could process memories and the more I processed the more I panicked. It was a horrible cycle I couldn't get out of.

So when I got the invite to Brittany's for the weekend I pounced on it.

* * *

><p>"So?" The voice was expectant and right behind me. Were it male I would have jumped, spun around quickly, ready to attack or defend or whatever I could manage. It wasn't, it was her voice, Brittany, one of the few things that kept me grounded.<p>

Sometimes I felt haunted, as if I was being followed by this ghost that was keeping me away from everyone else, that was keeping me from functioning as I should and when I felt like I was on the edge she could call me back. With one word she could call me back and things would be okay, even if only for a moment, I would feel okay.

"So?" I replied without any inflection. I didn't have it in me. I was drained. Days were becoming longer and colder and I was fading into myself more and more each day.

"Are you coming over?" She looked genuinely confused and a little disappointed.

"I...completely forgot. Brittany, I'm so sorry." It was true, I had. I hadn't even known it was Friday. I was just going through the motions.

"Oh," she said, glancing down, biting at her lip then looking back up at me. She was smiling but it didn't spread to her face. Her eyes looked dull, sad. I couldn't stand it. Her smile was usually warm, it enveloped all around it and I craved that warmth.

"No, Britt, it's just been a long week. I didn't mean to forget," I said lamely. I didn't talk much anymore and while I wasn't tongue-tied I didn't know what to say nor did I have the will to word the situation for Brittany to understand.

"Well, the invitation is still there." She looked me straight in the eye and my heart fluttered. We could be the only two people in the world when we locked eyes. It wouldn't matter if there was a crown around us, in that moment, we were all that mattered. I missed it. I missed her.

"I would love to," I began. Her face lit up. "But I didn't come with anything all of my stuff is at Mr. Schue's..." Did I need to ask them for permission? But I had, hadn't I? Earlier in the week. They said it was fine. But I should tell them, I suppose.

"We'll go ask," she said linking pinkies with me.

* * *

><p>She was driving us to her house. I hadn't been to the Pierce's in so long that it felt almost dream-like as we made our way through town, the familiar path to my second home.<p>

I sat in the passenger seat with my eyes closed. We remained silent but there was nothing awkwardness. It felt nice to relax. I knew I wouldn't be pressured to talk or have adult, watchful eyes on me waiting for another freak panic attack. I could relax and just be with no expectations. One of the many reasons I loved Brittany.

When she parked her car, though, I felt my heart begin to pound. It wasn't from panic, though, I was nervous. Nervous about seeing her family, about what Brittany had told them and what they knew. What if they knew everything? What if they knew about the way I was and they reacted the like my parents had? But they couldn't, they had let Brittany invite me. Too many thoughts. My eyes snapped open.

Brittany opened her door. I grabbed her arm. "What did you tell them?" I hadn't meant to be so intense or aggressive but everything swirling in my head caused confusion.

She put a hand on mine and took it in her own. "You're okay, here, San." She got out of the car.

I sat in the passenger seat and watched her walk to the porch. She turned and looked at me expectantly.

I sighed. I could trust Brittany. This would be fine.

* * *

><p>The house smelled exactly the same. It smelled a little bit like Brittany and a little bit like food and a little bit like family and familiarity. I inhaled deeply in the doorway and without warning or reason my vision became blurry. I panicked for the briefest of moments before I finally realized that it was tears and I was about to lose myself again.<p>

It was too much, though, being back to a place where life had been normal. I had been me and Brittany didn't have to be so worrisome over me and we were together working on coming out. I wanted this. I wanted stability and family and Brittany and it felt so far away and so close at the same time that my chest tightened with happiness and sadness and all other emotions in between.

Brittany grabbed my hand and I looked at her. She looked like she was on the verge of tears too. "Welcome home, San," she whispered just quietly enough for me to barely make out.

I wanted to pull her so close to me that we would never be separated.

"Brittany?" Mrs. Pierce yelled from the kitchen.

"Yeah," Brittany choked out, then again, louder. "Yeah?"

I wiped my eyes furiously with my sleeves, trying to calm the swell that was building inside of me. I heard footsteps and looked up. Mrs. Pierce was in the entrance way looking back and forth at me and her daughter. I couldn't read her expression. I braced myself for her anger. We were still holding hands. I was openly a wreck and Brittany didn't look too far behind me.

"Well shut the door," she told Brittany, who quickly obeyed. "And you," she said turning to me. I had never been intimidated by Brittany's mom but now she scared me. "It's good to see you, Santana."

She pulled me into a hug. It was the type of hug that I had been craving. The type of contact and affection that I had wanted since this entire ordeal started. It was different than the hugs I got from Brittany or Emma. It was a hug from a mom. That indescribable way that they could just take all of your angst and make you feel like a child again.

But she wasn't my mom and we broke apart.

"I'm thinking Italian tonight, yes?" She eyed us both and didn't even look twice when my hand went back to Brittany's. She flitted back to the kitchen. "Keep an eye out for your sister!"

"Okay," Brittany called. She looked at me and smiled. A real smile that spread to her eyes and spread to me and for the first time in a long time I felt the warm.

* * *

><p>Dinner was pasta with a meat sauce that I'm sure came out of a can. Both Pierce parents worked and dinner was usually whatever anyone could throw together. It tasted fantastic.<p>

I listened to them talk and tell stories about their day. I even laughed. I laughed and meant it and realized that I needed more laughter in my life, more Brittany. We listened intently as Brittany's younger sister told us about her encounter with a boy and we listened to Mr. Pierce talk about lame office jokes that for some reason were actually really funny.

I never wanted it to end. I wanted to be a part of it forever, even if it wasn't my family.

When dinner was over Brittany offered our services to help do dishes, but we were dismissed.

She took me to her room, a place I had been a million times before, but as we climbed the stairs and rounded a corner I felt my heart thud in my chest. More nerves.

Nothing about her room had changed. I had expected something to be different, anything, but it was all the same. Maybe I had just changed a lot. I sat on her bed and she stood by the door which she shut firmly.

We remained silent. I kept my eyes on the floor. I didn't know what to say. Usually finding something to talk about with Brittany was easy, second nature and even if there wasn't anything to talk about silence was never awkward. But it grew, the silence, and so did my feeling of unease.

"Brittany, I'm so sorry," I said. I meant it.

"Why do you keep doing that?" She looked confused and distraught.

"What?"

"Why do you keep apologizing to me?" She crossed her arms.

I was quiet. I didn't know why I felt the need to say I was sorry. I shook my head and felt small.

"I'm at fault too, Santana," she said softly. The use of my full name threw me for a moment.

"Why're you sorry?" This wasn't how this was supposed to go. I was the one who had messed up. I was the one who kept messing up.

"I saw the bruise and I knew you were acting weird and I didn't say anything." Her arms fell to her sides. "And you were living outside and you didn't tell me." She moved towards me. "I wasn't there to help you." Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears and I felt myself well up. This was just too much.

"Like I would have let you near enough to me to figure things out," I said. It was true. I was always so quick to pull away, even now. I didn't want to do this, I wanted things with Brittany to be simple.

"If I had just been smart enough to figure it out," she said, voice breaking. She looked down and I knew she was crying.

I was standing in front of her in a moment. I cupped her cheek and used the pad of a thumb to brush away a tear, tilting her head up to look at me. "You are so smart, you just have a stupid best friend."

She opened her mouth to protest but I kept on. "No one did anything to help me, Brittany, because I never let anyone get near enough to me to do anything. I don't like it when people are in my business so why would they bother when I would have bit their heads off? I'm the stupid one. I always have been. It's my fault."

"I'm at fault too," she said again, almost pleading with me to believe her.

"You're not," I said, my face was hot and I could feel the warm tears falling thickly from my eyes. Why was she crying? If she cried I cried. I wasn't strong enough to do this. I didn't want to see her hurt especially when she had done nothing wrong. It was me. It was all me.

"I wanted you to come out and you did and your parents kicked you out," she said it quickly. "I thought about it for like, a long time. If I had just been okay with us you wouldn't be homeless." Her voice caught in her throat and she choked back a small sob.

"Britt, please," I begged. I needed her to know. I needed her to understand. We were standing close to each other, almost touching. Her hands had rested on my hips and I was still cupping her face, keeping our eyes locked. I needed her to know.

I choked back a sob that caused my body to shake.

"Fuck," I said through the tears. "This is all I am anymore." She looked at me, face contorted, trying to hold back everything we hadn't said to each other in weeks. "Tears and bad memories."

"No," she said softly. She pulled me into her and I broke. I cried into her neck and I felt her body shaking underneath me.

It had been so long. We were inseparable during the summer. We had spent almost all of our free time together before I had been kicked out, before our fight. Our time apart had left us both feeling empty and alone. Now, though, being wrapped in Brittany I felt right, I felt safe and at home, even if I was crying.

"I love you so much," she whispered. I pulled away from her just enough to look her in the eye. She kissed me on the forehead.

"I love you, too," I said softly. I tried to stifle my crying and calm my nerves.

She kissed my cheek.

"I love you more than anything, Britt," I said shakily.

She pressed her lips so lightly against mine that I almost didn't feel it. Our lips met again and my eyes closed and I was lost in Brittany.

I had felt so lost and empty anymore. I had felt loneliness so strongly it became a physical ache and in that moment I realized I was aching for Brittany. For all of her.

I kissed her back.

I felt like I had needed her more than I needed anything. I needed her like I needed air. Our kiss, that was becoming more and more with every passing moment would fix everything, fix me, even if it was just for the moment.

She backed me into her bed and when my legs hit the edge I was pushed down onto it, Brittany following me, our lips breaking for just a moment.

It was familiar. We had been here a million times before and I wanted her. I wanted to feel her. I wanted to feel what she made me feel when we were together. I wanted to feel something that wasn't fear or anxiety or weakness.

She was straddling me, kissing my neck, kissing my lips, kissing anything she could. I gasped as a hand ran over my stomach and slowly made it's way up to my chest.

Something inside of me turned to ice.

Brittany was gentle, kind, everything I needed. She was loving and giving and still I felt it.

I felt him.

He had traced these same lines with rougher, bigger hands. He had touched me and tainted me and I couldn't get him out of my head and Brittany's kisses were becoming like fire but in the way where I knew I was going to burn alive and die. I knew where we were going and I wasn't ready for that yet.

"Stop," I whispered when our lips broke apart for a brief moment.

"What?" She stopped, immediately. She sat up and I pushed myself up on my arms, looking up at her, straddling my lap.

"I can't, Britt," I said slowly.

She looked hurt. I had never denied her, ever. It wasn't rejection, though.

"Britt, no, look," I began. I sat up completely and her body adjusted naturally to my new position. I hugged her close, my head on her chest. "I want to be with you, I'm just..."

What could I say? My heart was pounding. I felt panic gripping my chest causing my breathing to be shaky. He had touched me.

I had had a lot of sex. It wasn't a secret. I had been touched by guys before. It was sometimes rough, but usually accidentally, nervous hands for a first timer. Never had I been violated until Mark and now I felt damaged. My breathing was shallow.

"Shhh, San," she whispered kissing my forehead gently. She wrapped her arms around me. "Come on." She felt the change, she felt my body tense and heard my breathing. She couldn't see me like this. I moved to pull away from her and she held me close. "Come on," she repeated gently.

We moved apart for a moment, adjusting our bodies to a more comfortable position. We were laying down, facing each other. Brittany was holding both of my hands in hers and I was as close to her as I could possibly imagine. She pulled a small blanket over us out of habit.

Still, I felt my breathing speeding up and getting out of control. Brittany pulled me close and I rode through the panic, shutting my eyes tight, trying to come back to her, to our moment together. "I've got you, San."

I knew she did.

I knew that she would never hurt me. It wasn't in Brittany's nature to do damage. That was all me.

It struck me whenever I felt fear around the men I knew and didn't know, especially the ones I did. It struck me when I felt panic for no reason or fear or nausea. It struck me hard, in this moment with Brittany. I was finally realizing that my life would never be the same. That this was something I had to face for the rest of my life. That this was something I couldn't erase or make better with another assignment or extra rehearsals. This was a permanent mark on me forever.

I would never, ever be the same again.

"We don't have to do anything." She quietly.

I nodded and a sob escaped my lips. I wanted to be with her. I did. "Brittany," I said. I needed her to know. "I'm sorry." I was crying freely again. "I want to be with. I want you. I need you and I'm sorry." I was hysterical and I knew I was losing it. Brittany didn't deserve this. She deserved better and she always would.

She pulled me into her again and I cried openly. I poured myself into Brittany because I needed to. I needed to share all of the pain and fear with someone else and she was the only one I knew wouldn't run. No matter what, she would always be there.

No matter what.

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>This chapter is very important to me and very real. I feel like it's the worst one yet, though.


	13. Chapter 13 Ten Seconds and a New View

**AN: **Thank you again for all of the alerts/favorites/reviews that I've been getting. You guys have been crazy supportive of this story and that means a lot. Keep reading and I'll keep writing.

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><p><strong>Chapter 13 | Ten Seconds and a New View<strong>

When we woke up next to each other the next morning, the night before felt like a dream. I almost couldn't believe it had even happened. I had never been like that with anyone before. I was open and raw and honest. We stayed in bed for a while, just looking at each other, sometimes whispering little things that meant nothing but made us feel better. I knew something had changed between us. Something neither of us could really explain or put into words.

The other nights we went to bed as normally as we were able to, holding each other, whispering to each other like we used to when we were kids. It was exactly what I needed.

Monday morning arrived too fast.

The week was a blur. Everything was a blur. I was going through the motions again. Waiting, constantly waiting for myself to start feeling better. I felt like it was just something I would eventually attain, not something I had to work towards. It never came though. Being with Brittany almost made me feel like I had been recharged, though. I felt stabilized. I was okay with being around people again and even speaking up at times, with a lot less venom than I would have normally used.

People were leaving me alone in general which was nice but at the same time I recognized just how sad it was. No one wanted to reach out to me besides Brittany. Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury had to, they were adults and teachers, it was their job to reach out to me. My peers? No way. People feared me because I was good at cutting them down. Maybe that had been the Santana from a few weeks ago, but now? Now I barely had what it took to make myself presentable in the morning. I couldn't imagine why I had felt the need to lash out all of the time.

But that was a lie. When I looked at myself in the mirror I felt like I was seeing myself clearly for the first time. I had been afraid of what I was feeling. I had been afraid to come to terms with who I was and I had been angry. I was angry at myself not being able to show Brittany that I loved her until it was too late. I was angry about putting my image before anything. A stupid image that no one would care about after high school. I made myself into a Santana people would be glad to see gone when graduation rolled around. I made myself into what was expected from someone on top and not have to deal with the torment of being different. I was angry I had been born in a place that couldn't accept me for who I was.

I looked at myself hard in the mirror.

I heard on a TV show that if you couldn't look in a mirror and be your only company for ten seconds then there must be something wrong with you. Something like that.

One... Dark eyes, skin I inherited from my mother. Smooth and nearly flawless. Dark wavy hair that I used to spend an obscene amount of time making look perfect.

Two... I could see them in me. My parents. I had always been a fan of my odd bone structure and thanked my Latina heritage for my beauty and my flare. I looked a bit hollow in my face now, like I hadn't had a real nights sleep in a very long time. There were dark bags under my eyes and the bruise was almost completely gone when I wasn't covering it with make up. I wondered if my parents ever looked in their mirrors at night and saw me in their reflection?

Three... My eyes were dead. I could see straight through them. I was aching on the inside to feel anything. Even the anger was welcome because it was something beyond this feeling of all encompassing numbness that seemed to have swallowed me whole. The anger at myself at what I couldn't do for Brittany. What was I so afraid of? What else was there to be afraid? I didn't care that Will and Emma knew that I loved her. Coming out had been some odd relief in a way and that scared me. It cemented things, made it real. My only fear was Mark.

Four... Mark. He had wrecked me. I hated him. I hated him more than I hated myself because I knew that I only hated myself because of the stains he had left on me. I wanted him to feel what I was feeling. This feeling of waste and hopelessness. This feeling of loneliness that was slowly eating me alive from the inside out. It was beyond anything I had felt before and I knew I wasn't equipped to deal with it.

Five... I stared at myself and I couldn't even recognize who was standing before me. I wasn't angry Santana or bitchy Santana. I wasn't guarded or image obsessed Santana. I wasn't the Santana who was always there for Brittany. I wasn't anybody. I was existing. I was trying to survive. I was stripped of everything that had, at one point, seemed so important. The image was clear.

I looked away. Ten seconds alone with myself was too much. I was the only one who knew everything. I was the only one who knew what had happened and I wasn't ready to face that. Not now. Not yet.

Time passed on though and I was grateful. I went to all of my classes and did the work. I was caught up, I was back to actually making good grades again. I was going to school every day and didn't have a breakdown once during the week.

I could do this.

What other option did I have, though?

I could keep Mark to myself and make it through this. I would be fine. Glee was returning to the Rachel Berry show, which I knew should have bothered me but it kept the attention off of me. I could even hold Brittany's hand without actually caring and everyone assumed I was just super needy. It was a small comfort that I allowed myself and her smile every time I reached over to lace our fingers together made the entire situation worth it.

* * *

><p>Dinner was a ritual I had adjusted to, sort of. It wasn't messy and endearing like the Pierce family and it wasn't non-existent like it was with my family most days. It was a sit down meal with healthy food and general conversation. It was more awkward though, than actually staying in the apartment. I always felt like Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury were purposefully acting formal because of my presence, like I was keeping them from being who they wanted to be.<p>

Mr. Schue talked a lot about his day, mainly Glee which felt weird considering I was in the class and sitting right there. He never divulged any information beyond a look which I could easily decipher as annoyed but he still talked about it. His dedication was really endearing even if long-winded.

He changed the subject that night though.

"Santana?" He said it in his teacher voice. Great.

"Yeah," I said as innocently as I could looking up from my dinner.

"We wanted to talk with you." He set down his fork and looked at me.

My heart starting hammering in my chest. My first thoughts were of Mark. They had found out and were angry. I knew that was impossible though and brushed it away quickly. That secret was mine. I felt my eyes widen and my grip on my fork tightened. They were kicking me out. I was too much of a burden and they were tired of me. I would have no where to go again. I felt light headed.

"It's about your parents," Mr. Schue said after what felt like an eternity.

I relaxed immediately. "What about them?"

"Well as I've told you before they want to talk to you. They miss you and they want to meet with you." He said it quickly as if afraid my reaction would cut him off before he could finish.

I was silent. What did he want me to say? I did want to see them. I missed them and my home but I couldn't bring myself to say that. They couldn't see that needy side of me. "And?"

"And," Ms. Pillsbury said stepping into the conversation. "We think it would be a really good thing for you. I know you're still struggling with everything but I think that if you showed you were willing to reach out then your parents could actually be quite receptive to you, Santana."

I stared at her. I felt confused. Why did they want to see me anyway? I wanted to go on with life. I felt like parents were from a different lifetime entirely. Something I had outgrown.

"I can't," I said suddenly. I hadn't meant to say it, the words had slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them.

"Santana, you have to try," Mr. Schue said, passion ringing through his voice. This wasn't some Glee dilemma I could solve with a song and dance. I didn't want a pep talk or a confidence boost. I didn't want anything except for them to let me go to bed.

"I can't," I said again without meaning to. I wasn't angry or bothered I just felt drained suddenly. I didn't like this conversation. I didn't like the idea of my parents being involved again when I was just starting to feel like I was getting a grip on myself.

"You have to give them a chance, at least,"Ms. Pillsbury offered to me gently.

"Did they give me a chance?"

The statement seemed to fill the room. We all went quiet. I held eye contact with Ms. Pillsbury then looked over to Mr. Schue. "They didn't. They kicked me out. I even went back," I said feeling my eyes filling with tears. I couldn't stop myself. I was spilling over the edge and I didn't know how to hang on any more or if I even wanted to.

"I didn't tell you I went back the next day and ran into my mom. She told me to leave because my father would be home soon. She told me it was a good thing I was leaving." I was crying freely and trembling slightly. This wasn't fear or panic. It was the empty feeling they had left inside of me. "They don't want me." I put as much emphasis on the words as I could. Didn't they understand that? The honestly didn't want me because I was in love with Brittany.

We fell into a silence. Mr. Schue looked at Ms. Pillsbury who looked like she was at the end of her rope. The only sound in the room was my quiet sniffling.

After a few moments I stood up and left the table. I went to the guest bedroom, shut the door, collapsed on my bed and cried. I felt like I was in mourning for y old life. A life where I had parents and things were as normal as they could be. I would never get to go back to that.

* * *

><p>My body jerked awake.<p>

My eyes were red and puffy and I felt beyond exhausted. Sleep wouldn't come, though. I laid in my bed and closed my eyes, willing my body to fall back asleep. I had no idea what time it was but it was dark outside of my window and the house was quiet. A blanket had been thrown over me.

I inhaled shakily.

How long was this going to last? It seemed like every time I was starting to get a routine or get a hang of being me again something would slip in under my radar and blindside me. I couldn't see my parents. I couldn't tell them what happened. What would they think of me?

I felt like my guard was lowered and I couldn't put it back up. Something about the nighttime made it harder. I shut my eyes tight and held on tight to my pillow. I didn't want this. I wanted to sleep. I didn't dream anymore I just slept and every time I woke up I felt like I was remembering I was alive.

I knew that Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury were trying to help. I knew they thought they were doing what was best for me but I didn't want my parents back right now. They had always made me feel like I was supposed to do things on my own and I needed that side of them now more than ever. I needed the space to figure things out.

I was asking too much of them. I didn't belong here. That was plain enough for me to see. I was in the way. I took up their space and food and cost them money and cost them time together. I would leave. Maybe I could stay at Brittany's for a while and then...

And then what, Santana?

I laid perfectly still. This was crazy. It was pure crazy talking and I needed to calm myself down before I did something drastic. Like going to that fucking club...

I threw the blanket off of me and sat up in bed. I crossed my legs and looked down at my hands twisting nervously in my lap.

"Just don't think about him," I told myself quietly. It sounded like I was yelling in the silent house.

I shut my eyes tight. I wanted Brittany. I wanted to call her or go to her even if I had to walk. It was freezing outside and I knew she would be sleeping by now. Peacefully. Why would I bother her because I couldn't keep myself together for one night?

I got out of bed and stretched. My clothes felt like they had twisted around my body. I tried adjusting them but knew it was a losing battle. I stripped out of the jeans and shirt and pulled on a tank top and shorts. I immediately felt more comfortable.

I looked around the room. It felt weird being so quiet. I sat on the bed. I wasn't sure what I needed to do. Sleep wasn't going to be an option and I wasn't going to let myself call Brittany.

I was crying. Tears were sliding silently down my cheek. I felt like I was suffocated. I could feel the panic coming on. I felt Mark all around me. No rhyme or reason, no trigger. He was just there, terrifying me. Taunting me. Running his hand up my thigh.

I bent double and held myself, eyes shut tight. I couldn't think about him. I wouldn't.

I was shaking. I made myself stand up and look at the empty room. It was in my head. The threat was in my head. I had to face this if I was going to get past it. I had to. I couldn't just crawl into a ball and cry my eyes out every time I felt threatened by him.

I needed water. My throat felt dry. I stood up and made myself walk. I felt terrified of what was beyond my door. I was irrational, delusional. There was nothing out there but the only place that sounded safe to me was underneath my blankets in bed.

I opened the door. The house was eerily quiet. I felt like I was in a horror movie and someone was going to jump out at me every time I entered a room. I tried to move as silently as I could. Through the hall, through the living room, into the kitchen. I didn't even let myself breath. Noise would wake something that was lurking just in my peripherals. I could feel it wanting to pounce on me as my heart hammered in my chest.

I knew I was losing it.

Just get some water. I took a glass out of the cabinet and and slowly turned the handle of the faucet. I held the glass under the stream of water.

He had touched me and been inside of me.

I shut the water off and squeezed the glass tightly. I held it to my chest and stared at the wall. I was lost in my own head. I could feel the night on me. I could feel the concrete underneath my knees as I fell to the ground. The cold brick against my back, rough hands touching me where they shouldn't have.

A hand rested on my shoulder.

I screamed. I screamed like he was there in the kitchen with me. I dropped the glass and it shattered on the ground. I pushed myself away from the hand and hit the refrigerator hard causing it to shake. I fell to the floor. My vision was blurred from tears and I couldn't tell who the figure was.

He put a hand on me and I swatted it away. I was beyond gone. I was terrified. I couldn't do this anymore. I wanted to just lay on the tile floor and die. I curled in on myself and sobbed.

I felt another hand on me. This one was gentle, soft and was pulling me close. I didn't open my eyes or protest. I let the hand pull me into an embrace. It was Emma, I could tell by her smell. I fell heavily into her arms and allowed myself to let go. I couldn't do it anymore.

It was too much. I was falling to pieces at the slightest touch anymore. The more I tried to bury Mark the more he was able to leak into my very core. My breathing became shallow and quick and I felt light. I grabbed Emma tight, trying to hold onto anything.

"Santana," she was whispering gently. It wasn't a command or a reprimand it was a lifeline. Something for me to grab onto. "I know, Santana, I know."

I connected myself to her voice. I felt myself coming down from the panic. Soon I was reduced down to slight whimpering and shivering. I was a wreck. My throat hurt, my eyes felt swollen, my face was hot and my body ached. I was also freezing. I felt like I was in another world almost, like none of this was real and I was just trapped inside my own head.

"Can you stand up?" She whispered it gently in my ear.

"Y-yeah," I managed to hiccup back to her.

She helped me anyway, standing up first and helping me get to my feet. I stood, wobbly, shivering. She was leading me somewhere, away from the kitchen, the broken glass, and Mr. Schue. I couldn't look at him. I didn't care what he was feeling, if I had hurt him. I couldn't spare anything for anyone else anymore.

Through the kitchen, the living room, down the hall. My bedroom. Gently, she led me to the bed and I crawled into it. I scooted down under the covers and laid on my back. I stared up at the ceiling, unable to look at her. My body was still tense. I couldn't relax. I couldn't stop shaking. I had felt him, almost like he was really there.

"Are you hurt?" Her voice was soft but the room had become so quiet again that she sounded loud.

I shook my head.

"Good," she said spreading her hands over the blankets, trying to straighten them.

We lapsed into a silence. I wanted her to stay there forever. I wanted her to stay there and make sure I would be okay. I wanted someone to take care of me more than anything. I didn't want to be alone.

"Santana," she began.

"I know,"I said, quickly cutting her off. "I know and I'm so sorry." I felt my face contort, as if it wanted to cry but I didn't have any tears left. I was drained.

She was thoughtfully silent for a moment. I could see her mind working. She was looking down at the bedspread. "I need you to talk to me about what happened." She looked up and our eyes met.

I broke the contact quickly. "I told you everything."

"Santana," she said gently.

I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly, breath catching in my throat. I felt cold. I knew what I was going to do before I even did it and I was terrified. I had nothing left to give, though. I had hit rock bottom and I needed an out. I felt like I was drowning inside of my own head.

"I know," I repeated again. "I can't do this anymore."

She looked at me, eyes searching my face. She moved closer and put a hand on mine.

It was exactly what I needed. It all suddenly made sense to me. I couldn't do this alone. I wasn't supposed to do this alone. I was distraught, physically and emotionally drained. I was incapable of interacting with people without being reduced to tears. I _couldn't_ handle this on my own. I needed an adult to help me. I needed someone who could fix things. I knew if I kept it in any longer I was going to be eaten alive. I already felt like I was a thin layer of skin that was about to bust and dissolve into nothing.

I had to get rid of Mark and I wasn't going to do that unless I told someone.


	14. Chapter 14  That Would Be Telling

**AN: **Sorry it took so long to update, I hope you like it. Thank you for the reviews/favorites/alerts/everything.

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><p><strong>Chapter 14 | That Would Be Telling<strong>

I sat on the bed and tried to breath evenly. I could do this. I needed to.

I had told Ms. Pillsbury I would, that I wanted to. She was sitting on the bed, waiting patiently. She wasn't even looking at me which made everything so much easier. Which made me feel like I wasn't about to implode in on myself.

"Santana," she said softly. I couldn't bring myself to look at her. "I need you to talk to me. I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

I nodded slowly. "Okay," I said clearing my voice. My body tensed up immediately and I felt cold. I began to tremble as if someone had just opened a window to let in the cold November air. "I don't know why this is so hard."

I didn't. I needed to get everything out there. It was eating me alive but I felt like I was physically incapable. Every time I wanted to say something I felt like my body would shut down and nerves would take over. "Okay," I said for what felt like the millionth time.

I sat up straighter. "It was the day after they kicked me out." I stopped and tried to compose myself. I could feel myself slipping away. I didn't want to try sob through this, I didn't want to fall to pieces. I wanted to tell her, to get it out. I needed to feel better.

"I was at school. I saw Brittany. She was with Artie. She..." my voice trailed off as I remembered how happy she looked sitting on his lap. I felt my face contort as the emotions seemed to wash over me again, as if I was reliving it. Then I remembered the feeling of her lips on mine in her bedroom...

Ms. Pillsbury cleared her throat and I jerked my head up. We held eye contact for the briefest of moments before I looked away. I couldn't tell her if I looked at her.

I balled my fists into the blanket and continued. "She was sitting in his lap, hugging him. I don't know why, though." I stopped. Why had she been hugging him but kissing me later? A million thoughts swirled through my head like hundreds of pieces of paper caught in a storm. I felt buffeted. "I just lost it. It was too much. I had gotten kicked out because she wanted me to come out and I did and..." I trailed off.

Was I angry at Brittany?

But Brittany was everything.

But Brittany had pressured me. She had even apologized.

"It was bad," I continued. "I felt so lost. I felt so unwanted."

I stopped talking. I couldn't deal with Brittany right now. I couldn't deal with out unhealthy relationship that I had been the cause of. It was too much.

I sighed. "I went to a club." I felt stupid saying it. It seemed so ridiculous now. What had I been thinking? Had I been thinking? "It was stupid. I just didn't know what to do. I got dressed up and I went to a bar and I wanted to feel pretty and wanted."

My eyes were beginning to brim with hot tears. I looked up at Ms. Pillsbury. "I know that's stupid. But I felt like I had lost everything in such a short amount of time and I hadn't slept and I hadn't eaten anything and it was stupid. It was so fucking stupid."

I felt it then. The panic, rising in my throat like bile. It caused my heart to race and my breathing picked up it's pace, trying to catch up.

"Santana," Ms. Pillsbury began. She grabbed my wrists and said my name until I looked at her.

Our eyes locked and I felt the panic building. My eyes were wide and I was terrified. I felt like I was going to suffocate inside of my own body.

"Santana you have got to calm down. We can do this, you can do this. Please, just try to slow down your breathing." She was gentle, calm, and I latched onto her words.

I closed my eyes and tried to breath evenly. I could feel all of the hopelessness I felt then and now mixing together. Churning inside of me and causing my stomach to squirm.

"You take your time," she said softly letting go of my wrists. I reached out and grabbed her hand and held it tight in both of mine. She didn't pull away. I had never felt more grateful.

After a few minutes of steady breathing I felt like I could talk again. I felt like it wouldn't be as hard. I cleared my throat. "There was a guy. He was nice and funny and even handsome. He talked to me. He bought me drinks." I paused and his smell hit me like a freight train. My breathing hitched in my throat but I kept on.

"I was drunk. He took me out of the club. To the back. We were in an alley and I hugged him because I needed... anything."

I stopped. Oh god.

"He kissed me and I pushed him away. He tried to kiss me again and I wouldn't. He hit me. He hit me and he picked me up and he..."

Oh god. It had really happened.

"He raped me."

I hadn't ever said it out loud.

Everything broke all at once. I had been holding onto everything so tightly that when it finally did break away from my grasp I was shocked. I was so shocked I felt my breath leave me and my head spin and my stomach churned and I thought I was dying. I thought I had fallen underwater, even though I could feel Ms. Pillsbury holding onto my hand. I thought my lungs were filling up and there was no way I was going to pull through.

I wasn't getting out of this alive.

"He raped me." I said it again and looked Ms. Pillsbury. She was crying, silently. "He hurt me. His hands were all over me and then he was inside me and I just... oh my god. It really did happen. I'm so sorry."

I was gone. I couldn't talk anymore. I couldn't feel anything but sobs. They wracked my body and made me ache. Everything ached. Ms. Pillsbury was holding me close and I knew I was dead weight against her. I knew that my tears were soaking through her nightgown.

I had never felt so heavy. All of the pain, the emotions, all of it was coming alive so vividly again. Mark moving against me, his scent as he grunted and pinned me to the cold brick wall. I wanted to vomit. I wanted to die. I wanted everything to go blank, especially me, because nothingness had to be better than this.

I was blindsided, I was drained. I was everything but Santana.

Then I was empty.

I was still leaning against Ms. Pillsbury but my tears had stopped, my body had calmed. I felt numb. Completely numb. But there was something else. I felt it budding inside of me.

Relief.

I was relieved and in the oddest way I felt okay. I felt like it would be okay.

"Santana," Ms. Pillsbury said gently.

"Yeah," I croaked out, barely above a whisper. I pulled away from her and sat up in the bed. I felt weak as if I had been running for miles. My head was pounding and my stomach ached.

"I'm so glad that you told me this," she said putting a hand on mine. "I know this is hard for you."

"I'm just so sorry," I said. I felt my eyes filling up with tears again and brushed them away with my hands.

"Don't be sorry, okay? Right now I just want you to lie down and go to bed. Can you do that?"

I nodded and slid down into the blanket, immediately feeling like weights were attached to my eyelids. "Don't go, please," I begged when she moved to get up.

"Of course not," she said, settling down on the bed. She stroked my hair like my mom used to and even though I felt the beginning of tears I closed my eyes and met sleep without hesitation.

* * *

><p>When I woke up the next morning I kept my eyes closed. I felt heavy and weighed down by the blankets. It was like coming out of fog. I knew that last night had changed something. I felt like I had shifted just slightly but it had made all of the difference.<p>

I laid and bed and just focused on breathing.

School would be starting soon. I inhaled deeply, held the breath, then let it out quickly. I could get through the day.

I felt raw though. Raw and vulnerable and I knew it wasn't going to heal overnight. I threw the blankets off of me and sat on the edge of my bed. I grabbed my phone and checked the time.

9:43.

"What?" It came out as a whisper.

I opened my bedroom door. "Hello?"

"In here, Santana," I heard Ms. Pillsbury call from somewhere in the apartment.

My eyebrows came together and unease seized my nerves. Why was I still here? Why had she let me sleep? My thoughts flew to my parents. Had she called them? Had she told them? What if they were here? I felt angry, betrayed.

I moved slowly towards her voice, which I discerned was coming from the kitchen. I pushed open the swinging door. Ms. Pillsbury was standing in front of the stove. She was dressed for school. She turned to look at me and I was suddenly very self-conscious of the fact that I was dressed in shorts and an old shirt. I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Well have a seat," she said to me as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I stepped cautiously across the kitchen to the small breakfast nook in the corner. I slid into the booth-like seat. I sat, waiting. I wasn't sure what for but I felt on high alert. She couldn't just be fixing me breakfast. She was going to blindside me about the things I had told her last night.

"Did you sleep well?" She asked it while using a spatula to flit a pancake over delicately. She smiled at her work.

"Um, yeah, I guess."

"Good," she said pulling out the word.

I remained silent. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to be doing. I stayed tensed.

When she had used all of the batter in her mixing bowl she put all of her dishes in the sink and turned off the stove. She brought the plate of pancakes to the table and set them down in the middle of the table. They were steaming slightly and the smell made my stomach ache and growl audibly.

"Well eat up, then," she offered. "Want some milk?" She didn't wait for a reply. She moved to the fridge and pulled out the carton of milk, pouring me a glass. I watched her return the carton and then take the seat across from me.

She had already put plates and napkins on the table. She pulled two pancakes onto her plate and I watched, eyebrows still furrowed as she coated them in syrup.

"You know," she began, cutting a perfect triangle bite out of the pancakes. "My grandmother taught me how to make these from scratch. They're quite good." She ate the bit, chewed, swallowed, smiled at me.

"Eat," she said using her fork to point at me.

I watched her eat for a few more seconds before pulling an almost perfectly round pancake onto my plate and covering it with syrup. I cut a piece off. It melted into my mouth and I looked at Ms. Pillsbury, eating quietly.

"These are amazing," I said slowly.

"My grandmother was an amazing cook."

We ate in silence. Ms. Pillsbury ate her food slowly. I had devoured three and a half before she even finished. I felt full, content. I could have probably eaten about ten, but figured stopping while I was ahead was good.

When we were done she smiled at me. "I'm glad you liked them." She gathered the plates from the table and put them by the sink with the rest of her dirty dishes.

I felt too confused to offer her. When she began rinsing the dishes and loading them into the dishwasher, acting as if everything was normal I couldn't take it anymore.

"What are you doing?" I hadn't meant for my voice to be as accusatory as it was.

"Loading the dishwasher." She said it simply.

How could she be so casual after everything I had told her? How could she treat me like nothing had changed? I didn't understand. "What about last night?"

"What about it?" She turned off the water and turned to face me.

I stared at her, mouth hanging open slightly. "You're acting like it never happened." I had to restrain myself from yelling it.

"No, Santana, I'm waiting for you to talk about it."

I stopped. The cogs working to find her motives froze and so did my body. The cold feeling from the previous evening returned.

"I'm here for you, Santana. I hope you know that. This is something you have to come to terms with. I can't make you and I don't want to scare you away. How would you have felt if the first thing I asked you about this morning was last night?"

We lapsed into silence. I was trying to process her words, their meanings. What the future meant for me.

"I would have hated it."

"I don't want to scare you away, Santana," Ms. Pillsbury said slowly.

I looked around the kitchen. "Are we going to school?"

The corners of her mouth tugged up slightly. "I thought it would be best if we took the day off."

I nodded and looked at my hands, resting in my lap.

"It's my fault, you know," I said suddenly. It had slipped out of my mouth before I had even realized the thought had formed in my mind.

"Why do you say that?"

I closed my eyes tight and tried to keep myself from crying. Not this early, not after such a nice breakfast.

"I went looking for trouble. I was stupid. I went to some club and let a guy hit on me and buy me drinks and it was me..." I put my head in my hands and sighed. "He said I wanted it to happen."

"Santana," her voice was firm. I looked up at her and was surprised at the strength behind her eyes. She lacked her normal intimidation, intimidation that I had caused at some points. "No one deserves to go through what you went through."

Relief. It hit me like diving into water on a hot day. It cooled all of the right things. My nerves, my tears. I hadn't realize how desperately I had wanted someone to tell me it wasn't my fault. That I didn't deserve it. I had been holding it inside and trying to deal with it but all I saw was my part in it, not what actually was. I needed eyes on the outside, eyes that saw through what I couldn't see past.

I thought back to watching myself in the mirror.

I remained silent and looked down at the floor. I had spilled my guts to her but this was far from over. It was just getting started. I wasn't even close to being done with Mark.

"This is going to be hard, isn't it?"

I looked at her. I wanted her to have all the answers. I wanted her to tell me what was going to happen to me. I wanted an adult to lean on. I wanted my mom.

"It is," she said quietly. "But now it's all out there, Santana. Now you can start healing."

I knew that what was coming would be hard. I knew I was going to have to work through a lot to get back to where I used to be, if I ever even could get back there. For the first time in what felt like centuries though, I didn't feel like I was rotting on the inside.

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><p>Ms. Pillsbury let me spend the rest of the day in the apartment. I didn't have the energy to venture into the world anyway. It was nice to just be able to sit and not feel pressured by anything. I did homework and even got a head start on the homework I was missing from being out of school. It felt good to have something that I could focus on that didn't involve me or Mark or what had happened.<p>

When I got bored I would wander into different rooms. Ms. Pillsbury was always there. I was grateful for that. Part of me was terrified she was going to leave me or get mad at me, some irrational part of me I couldn't quite quell. She never did though.

I laid down on the couch in the living room and stared at the ceiling for a long time until Ms. Pillsbury entered the room and turned the television on. We ended up watching a movie. Some old John Wayne flick that I couldn't help but enjoy.

It was the perfect break.

I still felt the weight of Mark on me. It wasn't as agonizing now, though. It just was a presence. I still felt empty and would often find myself staring off into space for who knows how long. It was better, though. I was more than a frenzy, more than just panic and fear.

My thoughts varied between wild and dormant. One moment I would seem to snap awake, like I had drifted off to sleep and the next minute I felt like I was going to explode with everything buzzing around inside of me.

I kept going back to Brittany.

I wanted her. I needed her. I missed her.

Still, what had been thinking last night? I had been angry at her, I remembered that. I had resented her and the more I thought about it, the more the feelings grew. Brittany who was so innocent and didn't see the world like I did had been the one pushing me to come out. If she hadn't pushed me we wouldn't have fought. I wouldn't have come out to my parents, they wouldn't have kicked me out. I wouldn't have gone to that club.

Why had she been with Artie? Why had she kissed me and touched me?

The questions swirled in my head and made me tired. I was confused, to say the least. I didn't know where I stood on anything or who to blame and if there really was blame to place. It was too much and I already felt like I would barely be able to survive school tomorrow. Everything was so fresh on the surface and now I had these feelings about Brittany. It was too much.

I was all over the place and I knew it. I needed to sleep it off. Sleep off the confusion. I needed to deal with myself first and worry about Brittany later.

But if she hadn't pushed me I wouldn't have to worry about anything.

As soon as the thought struck me, I knew that the shift I had felt in myself wasn't good at all. I felt like my world had been knocked off it's axis, even more so. I felt wrong and I didn't even recognize myself anymore.

And I was angry.

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>I know, for that long of a wait I should have given you something better. I tried at least. Hope it was a good read. I'm getting a little stuck on what's going to happen, just not sure which way to take this.


	15. Chapter 15 Sing Me To Sleep

**AN: **Thank you for all of your reviews/alerts/favorites. But I want to give a special thanks to the person who left me a six paragraph review anonymously. I seriously reread it about five times when I got it. Your words mean a lot. I would have loved to thank you via message but...you're well, anonymous.

So, I know it's been about ten days since an update and I gotta say it's because I've been really busy and then Thanksgiving and then I lost internet so it's been a mess. I would like to let you know a few things: I have written more to my outline and a few chapters after this (so steady updates). I honestly thought Miles would be coming to an end in just a bit, but now I feel like I've discovered all of these things that I hadn't noticed before, so it's actually gotten infinitely longer. I've been taking these ten days to write ahead so that I won't fall behind again. Hopefully I can stick to that.

Sorry for all of the words. Enjoy.

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><p><strong>Chapter 15 | Sing Me To Sleep<strong>

I had expected everything to just stand still, I guess. I had expected the world to realize what I was dealing with and stop and wait for me. But it didn't. It kept on moving, faster than it ever had before and I was slipping. I felt it all slipping like sand cupped in my hands.

School was never ending. I hated every second I was there having to take notes or pretend to take notes. Having to sit in class with all of these people who didn't even care that I felt like I was dying. I had to deal with Brittany. Seeing her.

I didn't want to see her. For the first time in ever I just wanted her to leave me alone. Stop trying to link pinkies with me, stop trying to make us the way we used to be. Carefree together. I couldn't be that. I wasn't ready to be that and I just couldn't talk to her about it.

"How're you doing?" She asked one day in the hall.

"Fine." I knew I was using the voice I used on everyone else, not the voice I had especially for Brittany.

She stared at me, obviously shocked. "I miss you."

At some other point in time my heart would have shattered and I would have swept her into my arms and told her I was sorry and I loved her and she was beautiful and everything.

"I just have a lot going on," I replied, arms crossed over my chest.

"Right, well, I'm here, you know," she shrugged her shoulders and looked down.

"I know," I replied shrugging one shoulder and turning.

"Do you?" She said it quietly. I pretended I didn't hear and walked away.

Not today, Brittany.

* * *

><p>My anger drifted in and out. Like it was a radio station that I could only get reception for at the oddest of times. It crept slowly into my being and latched hold though. Before I had just felt dead. Numb. Lost inside of myself. But now that Emma knew, now that I had to talk to her about it, now that I had to deal with it, I had to face it, I couldn't force it back or down or cover it up by being mean.<p>

It was out there and real and I hated it.

I hated everyone.

I hated myself most of all.

I couldn't keep it in either. No matter what I tried little bits of it would come hissing out of me.

"Let's talk," Ms. Pillsbury said one afternoon at one of our new 'Sessions' as she liked to call them.

"I don't want to," I replied, monotone.

"You don't have to talk about what happened, just talk to me," she said softly.

I kept my eyes unfocused, staring out the window. I was curled up on a chair in the living room. She sat on the couch, I could feel her eyes look me over and wander to the window. We both stared for a while.

"Santana," she said.

"What?" I snapped. I jerked my head to her and felt it leaking out of me. Like someone had popped a tiny hole in me and I was slowly leaking out the anger.

Ms. Pillsbury's eyes widened for a fraction of a second and then she regained herself, found her balance. "No need to snap, I just want you to talk to me."

"I don't want to talk," I said firmly. I didn't. I wanted to sleep. Just go crawl into bed and sleep away everything. Sleep until I felt better.

"I can't help you if you don't talk."

"I don't want your help," I practically yelled. "God, can I just go?"

I didn't wait for an answer. I stood up and walked quickly to my room, shutting the door harder than I should have.

It was bubbling up inside of me. Like water someone left on the stove and it was boiling over.

I huffed a sigh and leaned against the door. I stared hard at my bed. There it was, calling for me to jump right in.

I paced the room. For what felt like hours I paced back and forth and let the frustration build and build and build. Then it hit me, rational thought. The anger was doused with a wave of guilt and self-loathing. I felt embarrassed.

After taking a few seconds to deliberate I opened the door and made my way back to the living room, hoping she wasn't still there.

She was, of course.

I sat down in the chair again. She didn't say anything.

"I'm so sorry," I said quietly.

"It's okay," she replied. I couldn't read her tone.

"My day was okay. I didn't have any homework at least..."

* * *

><p>In my room that night I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. Here I was, buried under blankets, just like I wanted and now sleep refused to come and claim me as one of it's own. It was punishment for the way I had talked to Ms. Pillsbury earlier. I knew it had to be.<p>

I was so stupid.

There it was, budding inside of me. Ever so slightly, that frustration.

Here they were caring for me without any real reason to and all she wanted to do was help and all I was capable of was snapping at her like she was another kid strolling down the hallways of McKinley, begging to be put in place by me.

I winced.

I hated thinking of my life before him. Before what he had done to me. It felt like I was watching a movie, not my own life. I couldn't remember what it felt like to just be without feeling like the weight of the world was on my shoulders.

It still built in me. I was cheated out of that life. I was cheated of a lot of things, lately.

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><p>The week passed by like a breeze through my hair. I barely noticed it was there before it was gone. It left nothing on me. I had gained nothing. I felt stuck in place, in mud, it was sucking at my shoes and I couldn't even lift my feet to move forward, nor was I sinking. It was insufferable.<p>

Stuck in filth, my own filth.

The worst part was how much I could feel the frustration growing into anger over the week. I wanted to lash out and I knew that the old me would have. At some point that was the only way I had to deal with my feelings by hurting others, but I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to inflict what I was feeling on anyone else No one deserved it. No one had before but now I could see more clearly.

Not even Brittany who I felt more anger at than anyone.

I knew who Brittany was to me, what we had been. I couldn't just stomp on that, regardless of how I was feeling.

I wouldn't. That much I could manage for now.

Truth be told I wanted to curl that anger in on myself. I felt like I deserved it, I deserved the anger coursing through me like a poison. Like it was my fault, even if it wasn't I still needed to feel it hurt me. I was still dirty, used, hurt. I was still disposable.

It was too much. And I didn't even feel like trying to hold on to anything anymore.

I felt the familiar tightening in my body. The locking of joints, the cold that seemed to fall over me like snow, slowly and building. My breathing got away from me and I felt the panic settling cozily into every nook and cranny, waiting to make it's move.

I shut my eyes tight and gripped the sheets.

My first instinct was to call for Ms. Pillsbury, run and get help, call Brittany.

No. I could do this. Focus on breathing. In and out. Normal, calm. I did and felt light headed in seconds. I shut my eyes tighter and held my breath for as long as I could.

When I released it got away from me again. It became erratic and I turned on my side, curling myself into a ball, legs drawn up to my chest. I felt myself begin to tremble.

Then I was crying. Then I was falling.

* * *

><p>"I promised them, Santana," Mr. Schue said to me, eyes softened the way he reserves for talking to the most damaged of students and Ms. Pillsbury.<p>

But she's just as damaged as the rest of us, I suppose.

"I don't care," I cried back to him. I paced in the living room. "I can't." I spoke the words clearly, enunciating each syllable.

"Santana, they're your parents, they love you, they miss you," he said. He was pleading with me to understand. To _sympathize_.

I felt my jaw tighten. "You have no idea what I'm dealing with right now." I said it quickly. It felt like venom in my mouth, stinging my throat. I wanted to jump out and sink my fangs into him and let the anger flow into him. Let him feel it. Let him bleed it like I was every day.

"If someone would tell me maybe I could help," he said turning to look at Ms. Pillsbury. She had been watching from the other side of the room. Monitoring my anger but not being involved.

I shot her a look. It was pure panic and she recognized it immediately.

"Will," she said in that special voice she used to convince him she knew what was best. All women must have it programmed in them. I wondered if I did. If Brittany did. If she was the one to use that voice trick on me. Probably. I missed her. I frowned and shook my head, trying to rid her from my thoughts. Not now, Brittany.

"Emma,"he began, cutting her off. "I know, I get it, I just feel out of the loop."

"I'm not doing this," I said loudly, drawing the attention back to me. "I don't want to see them. I'll just leave, okay? I know that you're sick of me and I'm a pain anyway so I'll just go that way no one has to deal with me."

I turned to leave and felt a hand grasp my arm. I turned back quickly. It had shocked me. She had streaked across the room before I had taken two steps.

"Santana," she said, taking command of the situation. Her eyes were firm, her voice unwavering and strong. "Why do you feel like you have to say those things?"

I pulled my arm from her, hard and stared. I wanted to scream at her. To yell in her face and explain to her that I wasn't good enough to keep around, that I didn't deserve to be helped, that I was just here because they felt obligated and I had over stayed my welcome.

The tears were building in my eyes. They were heavy and I was tired and they slipped away before I could stop them. They fell freely and I wasn't sure why they were there. I was angry, not sad.

"Oh, Santana," she said softly.

I wanted to shake her and make her see what, apparently, no one else but me could see.

She pulled me into a hug and I felt my body go stiff and a sob escaped me before I even knew it was there. I felt like my body and mind were working on two different speeds. I felt anger but my body was translating it into tears. I couldn't stop it.

"Just leave me alone," I said, pushing her away lamely but making no move to actually pull away.

She let go of me and held me at arms length. I rubbed furiously at my eyes trying to calm the steady flow of tears.

"We can talk about it later?" She was giving me an out.

I jumped for it like a dog begging for a treat. I nodded and retreated.

"Santana," she said, the firm tone returned.

I looked back. Will was standing behind her, looking lost, and a little annoyed. I felt a sting in my chest, like I had been hit with a physical blow, was that annoyance at me? The anger flared for a moment before flickering out.

"We will talk."

I nodded and walked to my room.

When I shut the door I felt like there was nothing left in me. I collapsed on my bed and crawled under the blanket, pulling them over myself and letting my body go. It poured out the anger through my tears and it all ebbed away until I felt drained and hollowed out like a canoe people forgot about in their garage, like that pot of boiling water that had been boiling for so long all the water had fizzled up.

I wanted to sleep forever.

* * *

><p>I had slept through dinner.<p>

I guess it was nice for them to have a dinner alone together. I knew I was a point of stress in their relationship and my money was running low. I had bought all of my own school lunches, when I felt like eating, I bought all of my shampoo and conditioner or whatever else I needed for hygiene. I tried buying food but they wouldn't let me. Even if we went out for dinner, which we had a few times, I always tried to pay but they wouldn't let me.

My debt was huge in more ways than one and my presence was an annoyance. I remembered the look on Mr. Schue's face when I left the room. I turned onto my other side and curled into a ball.

It was dark out.

I watched the wall for a long time. Not thinking, not moving, just watching.

I turned onto my back and stared at the ceiling.

The tears welled in my eyes and I let them slip from the corners down my face, pooling in my ear. I didn't know why they were there or how I could possibly have any tears left.

There was a light knocking on the door.

I cleared my throat. "Come in," I called, voice strained.

Ms. Pillsbury pushed open the door and made her way to my bed. She sat on the edge.

I used the heels of my palms to rub hard on my eyes. I wanted to clear the tears away.

"Santana, we need to talk," she said.

"Yeah," I replied, still staring at the ceiling. My throat felt tight and my body went rigid. I didn't want to talk. Not now. I was dead. I wasn't angry or sad I was just dead.

Why was I crying then?

"Your parents are coming Sunday afternoon to talk."

I closed my eyes and exhaled the breath I hadn't realized I had been holding. I nodded.

We were silent.

"There's food for you in the microwave," she said standing up.

I nodded again, so grateful that she wasn't pushing me to talk about anything.

She left without another word and I felt empty again. I wanted to call Brittany just to hear her voice. Something inside me reared up and shot the idea down quickly.

I turned back on my side and curled up into a ball, a position I was becoming more and more familiar with. I buried myself into the blankets and prayed for sleep to take me back.

I didn't know what was going on inside of me anymore. I couldn't read anything or decipher anything.

Sleep, all I needed was sleep.

* * *

><p>Sunday afternoon arrived fast, too fast. I felt like someone was literally stealing time from me. I spent most of Saturday in my room. I didn't even bother getting out of bed until noon. I didn't take a shower, I didn't eat anything until dinner time that night and I wore a spare set of sweats all day. I wasn't feeling like doing anything. I just wanted to go back to bed.<p>

I didn't really talk at all on Saturday, I didn't do anything. I was just existing and when night time hit, I crawled back under the blankets dreading the next day.

Sunday morning I was up early, more out of nerves than anything. I felt like when I was younger and my mom would drag me and my father to church. She'd put me in a dress and force me to sit quietly in the pew and listen to the sermon. Sometimes I would bring a notepad and write or doodle.

When I got older she had stopped forcing me and my dad. She had stopped going. We were all busy. They ran the practice, I had school and Cheerios and eventually Glee.

I dreaded seeing them.

I took a long time in the shower. I washed my hair, my body, then I stood under the water until it ran cold.

I took my time getting ready. I combed out my wet hair, I let it air dry, not bothering to straighten it. At some point it had been such a habit that I wouldn't have even left the house without having it straightened, but now? Now my priorities had changed. I had changed. Everything had changed.

I was terrified they weren't going to see that.

I was terrified they were going to look at me and know. Realize everything.

I felt my heart plummet through my feet.

I wasn't ready for this.

I pulled on some clothes and made my way to the living room. I sat on a couch and stared at the floor. Someone entered the room. I looked up.

"Santana," Mr. Schue said softly. He moved to sit on the couch across from me.

I didn't say anything, I just stared at him. This was his fault, he had promised them something I couldn't deliver and now they were going to hate me even more.

"I want you to know that Ms. Pillsbury and I will be here the entire time. We'll be in the kitchen." His eyes were soft, his voice soothing. He was being a teacher, he was being kind.

I nodded. I hadn't spared a word all day and I was starting to become afraid that I had forgotten them completely, that they wouldn't come.

We sat in silence. I heard Ms. Pillsbury moving in the kitchen. She was probably cooking something. I had realized it was a nervous habit of hers. Sure, she would clean something until it was beyond spotless, but she also cooked. She would cook until she was soothed and it was soothing to watch her.

I stared at the floor.

I wondered if they looked different, if I looked different, if they were angry still. I remembered looking in the mirror and not being able to stand ten seconds alone with myself. I remembered their faces in mine. I remembered the times they had felt like parents.

There was a knock on the door.

The entire earth seemed to freeze for a fraction of a second before everyone moved again.

Mr. Schue jumped off of the couch and sprang to answer it, Ms. Pillsbury stepped out of the kitchen and I felt her eyes on me. I rose slowly. I didn't want to be sitting, I felt too vulnerable sitting. If I was standing they would see I wasn't weak. They couldn't see me being weak.

I heard voices. I heard familiar voices talking to Mr. Schue and movement.

And then there they were, standing in between the kitchen and dining room looking at me like I might break any second.

I felt like I might break any second.

They looked exactly the same. They looked like they had eaten well and gotten plenty of sleep. Their clothing looked like it hadn't been worn and re-worn and over-worn. My father's face was clean cut and my mother was wearing make up, she was holding a brown paper bag at her side. Maybe they had just come back from church. Maybe they had plans after this.

We stared at each other before Mr. Schue stepped in.

"Well, I'm glad you all are here, come in, have a seat," he said a little louder than he normally spoke. Nerves, they were the driving force behind everyone.

Ms. Pillsbury moved forward and shook hands. She was talking to them. They were trying to be pleasant but it felt forced. I could see it on her face, she wasn't happy with them either.

I watched them exchange pleasantries and felt nothing. I was still dead. I wanted to go back to my room. They could do this without me.

"Santana?" I looked up. They were all staring at me, four sets of eyes boring into me and expecting, expecting and waiting and waiting and... what did I have to give them?

"Yeah," I said, voice slightly hoarse from disuse. I cleared my throat. "Yeah."

"Well, let's have a seat," Mr. Schue said.

They sat down on the couch across from me. My mom sat on the edge, back straight, my father sat back against the cushion but he didn't look relaxed. I remained standing, staring at Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury.

She nodded at me and I sat down slowly.

"Well," Ms. Pillsbury said to the room. "If you need anything we'll be in the kitchen."

"Thank you, so much," my mother said looking up at her. Ms. Pillsbury nodded at her then met my eyes. I knew she had been talking to me.

I nodded and they left.

We were alone. My palms were sweating, my heart was racing. I felt like I did the first time we performed at sectionals in Glee.

They were staring at me. I could feel their eyes on me, uncertain. I looked at my father, he looked away, looked around the living room. I looked at my mother, her eyes were watering with tears.

I felt nothing.

"We brought you this," she said looking away from me and pulling the brown paper bag up onto the coffee table.

I stared at it. "What is it?"

"Some of your clothes," she said softly, as if afraid to say the wrong thing.

"That's nice of you," I responded without thinking. I couldn't help but think I would have rather they had brought me my car keys.

We lapsed into another silence. I stared at the bag. I could feel her eyes on me.

"You look like you've lost weight," she said softly.

"That's what happens when you live under the bleachers for a week," I said shrugging my shoulders.

She flinched, my father turned his attention back to me. He looked mad.

"Yes, we heard about your little... stunt."

I jerked my eyes up to meet his. They were so familiar. Dark, determined, slightly annoyed. My eyes. They were my eyes. I looked away.

"It wasn't a stunt," I said through a clenched jaw. "It was my only choice."

"Oh, Santana," he huffed. "You knew you could have come home."

I froze.

"What?" It was sharp. I felt sharp. I felt deadly and like I was boiling. My ears were hot and I felt my skin prickling slightly.

"You had to turn this into something elaborate, didn't you?" He locked his eyes on mine and I couldn't pull away.

I knew this tone. This was the tone he had used on me when I was a child, when he had grown tired of me. His expression was one I had seen a million times; condescending, superior.

"I did what I had to do to survive," I said, voice shaking from the heat that was slowly rising.

He waved a hand at me and looked away. "Survive? Santana, this isn't life or death. You don't need to make everything so big to feel big." He held nothing back and I felt like he had slapped me.

Then I remembered Mark had slapped me and I closed my eyes tight.

"You have no idea what I'm dealing with," I said, voice low. I felt like an animal that had been backed into a corner. I was ready to lash out. I was ready to get rid of the anger and sink it into him. Make him suffer. Make him feel what I felt.

If anyone deserved it he did.

"Oh yes, it must be so hard living with your teachers," he mocked. "It's time you came home. It's time you grew up and realized how things work in life."

I opened my mouth and stared at him. He looked serious. He wasn't smug, though, he looked disappointed. He was upset. He was upset with me. _He_ was upset with _me._

"Are you fucking with me?"

"Santana!" It was my mother. My eyes darted to her. "Your father and I want you to come home." Her eyes were pleading with me. Begging with me to just submit to him. Submit to him like she had been doing.

I shook my head at her. Tears poured down my face without warning. I had reached a boiling point.

"You don't get it, do you?" I was practically yelling at them.

"No, you don't get it," he said sitting on the edge of the couch, eyes scrutinizing my face. "No daughter of mine will behave like this and get a free vacation from it at someone else's expense."

"Behave like what? You mean being a lesbian?"

His face hardened at the word. He stood up. "You're eighteen, you don't even know what you want."

"I've had enough shitty sex with boys to know that sex with Brittany is better," I said jumping to my feet.

The room became silent. I was breathing hard, I felt light and adrenaline was pumping through me, racing with the anger, trying to see who could make my heart pound harder.

He looked so mad, like he was going to reach across the coffee table and slap me. He didn't move though, he watched me closely.

I had never spoken to him like that. I had never spoken to him as more than an authority figure. That's what he was, an authority figure. Just a shadow of a person who happened to wear the title of my father. I wanted to scream at him, hit him, let him see this rage he had helped build in me.

"You don't get to talk to me like that," he said, voice lowered.

"You don't get to kick me out then blame it on me!" I yelled it at him.

I was on fire. I was fire. I was full of rage and all of these negative feelings that I had never dealt with before, that I had never thought to access. I was awakened. I was revitalized. I was gone.

"Santana," he began.

"No, I'm done." I said crossing my arms across my chest. "I'm done with you."

"No, Santana, I'm done with this attitude. You haven't learned a thing, have you?" He looked smug as if he had just played a trump card. As if I didn't understand, as if I was losing.

We were silent.

Then it hit me. It was all a game to him.

"Why are you so angry at me?" It came from somewhere I thought I had lost when the anger took over. I said it softly, voice breaking. I needed to know. I didn't understand. I tried to, but I didn't.

"It's not right, Santana," he replied. His voice was firm.

I sank to the couch and buried my head in my hands and cried. I didn't care that they were there. I didn't care that I was weak. I couldn't do it anymore. The anger had ebbed away and I was left with nothing but this immense sadness. I was left with nothing.

I was nothing.

I heard the kitchen door swing open and felt Ms. Pillsbury beside me. People were talking around me, there was movement. I turned myself into her and cried, wishing she was my mother instead. Wishing I didn't feel so lost in my own life, in my own mind, in my own feelings.


	16. Chapter 16 Session

**AN: ** As always, thank you for the amazing reviews. Especially **Sneebot, AgentNote, Jellysnack**, **Crazyfornaya**, **Brittanaislove**, everyone else who reviewed for the last few chapters and **BlackShield** for being a sounding board.

The alerts/favorites are overwhelming and so appreciated. I promise to never wait ten days to update again, haha. Enjoy, kids, this chapter is pretty special to me, even if it is short. I think it's my favorite so far.

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><p><strong>Chapter 16 | Session<strong>

I was sitting on my bed staring at the blank piece of paper in front of me.

I had written a lot of poetry when I was in middle school. It was bad poetry that I kept in a shoe box under my bed. It was nice to go back and read it when I was feeling nostalgic. Writing had been a big part of me growing up. I had lost it in high school when I realized you had to become popular to survive, when puberty hit and people started looking at me, when I grew into my bone structure.

I held the pen loosely in my hand and flicked it back and forth, holding it in the middle with my pointer finger and thumb.

I pressed the pen to the paper and picked it up, staring at the black dot the ink had left.

I sighed.

It had been too long since I'd written that now I was afraid to try. Now I felt stupid.

My eyebrows came together and I tried to let it come to me, let it pour through me and onto the page.

"Just start writing," I whispered.

_What do I know anyway?_

_I brought the candles up from the basement_

_I wanted to light the way_

_I wanted to brighten up the room._

I stopped and stared at the words. That didn't make any sense. I marked an X through the letters and bit the end of the pen.

Writing had always been easy, especially when I was the most upset. That had been years ago, though, hadn't it? I was rusty, really rusty. I thought about the things my father had said to me and tried to pull from that, the pain, the anger, the grief that he had left on me.

_Stained_

The word looked innocuous enough. I added to it:

_Stained_

_Like ink dripping from a pen_

_Down into me,_

_Deep down where no one can see_

_But I can feel._

I looked at the words and reread them four or five times. It was better but I knew it was still bad, that I was a lot more rusty than I had thought I was. I felt the words just on the tips of my fingers and waiting just inside my mind. All they were waiting for was the proper catalyst. That's what I needed, the right push.

I marked out the words. That wasn't it, though. That wasn't what I was feeling. Everything moving inside of me and I couldn't grab a hold of one problem to fix it or tame it or calm it. I couldn't get a grip on anything and I couldn't fight the constant throbbing build of anger in me.

What was it?

The word seemed to seep out of the pen.

_Turmoil._

That's what I was, that's what I felt. That's where the writing needed to come from.

Turmoil.

* * *

><p>Ms. Pillsbury brushed her hands along her skirt, smoothing the wrinkles that had formed. "So," she said gently, starting the conversation.<p>

I didn't respond. I was sitting on the couch across from her, legs pulled under me. My elbow was on the arm of the couch and I was leaning my head on it, staring ahead, looking past her.

"Your parents brought you clothes." It was just a statement. I knew she wanted me to pick it up and start a conversation but I didn't know if I had it in me today.

I nodded.

We sat in a comfortable silence. I let my eyes close and I sighed.

"Santana." I opened them, looking at her. "We need to talk about your anger."

It flared up for just a second before coming to a simmer, just under my chest. "What anger?" I hadn't meant for there to be any sting in my voice, but it was there anyway.

"I know you're hurting," she began.

"Do you?" It was harsh, but I couldn't stop myself. I sat up and stared at her, really trying to read her and see if she actually did know or if she was using her therapy bullshit on me. "Because I don't think anyone knows what I'm going through right now. Anyone."

I felt tears prickling at my eyes and I wanted to scream. I huffed in frustration and used the heels of my hands to try and rub the tears out of my eyes.

"Why are you crying?"

I didn't look up at her, I continued rubbing, hard. "Because my body doesn't get the difference between anger and sadness, it seems." I spat the words at her. They were beyond me. It was like the way I had been. It was like looking at the angry Santana who couldn't admit she was in love with Brittany.

My heart clenched and I felt ripped in two at the mention of Brittany. Part of me wanted to run to her, part of me wanted to slap her, shake her, make her feel what I felt. I couldn't do that to Brittany, though. She was too special. She hadn't meant for anything like this to happen, she didn't understand.

I leaned forward and buried my face in my hands.

"Let's talk about why you're angry," she said gently.

"I don't want to. I know why I'm angry." I stopped rubbing my eyes.

"Why is that?"

I paused. "I'm mad at Brittany. I'm mad at my parents." They were hard things to just say, to just put out in the open. They were a part of me and I was afraid she would look at them, see what my parents saw and throw them away. I was terrified of that every time I talked to her.

"Why are you mad at Brittany?" I looked up at her. This wasn't a therapy question, it was a real question.

The words came slowly. "She wanted me to tell them. If she had just let it go I wouldn't have told them."

"Weren't you unhappy though, lying about it?"

I stopped and looked down. "I don't know. I just know that if she hadn't pushed me I wouldn't have gotten kicked out. I wouldn't have gone to that club..."

We were silent.

"It's too much. What happened, my parents, Brittany. It's too much. It's all stuck inside of me and I need it to get out." I was feeling desperate. Panic was building, fear was building. I knew I was going to lose myself if I didn't get something out.

"Santana you have to talk about it. I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

"I can't," I said enunciating each word roughly. "It hurts."

"It's going to hurt more if you don't talk to me," she said firmly. The sessions had been her idea, we had talked before, just about small things, my day, Glee, Brittany. It was the first time I had ever had someone to share my day with, just because they wanted to hear. My parents never asked.

"What would you like to talk about?" Everything. It was on the tip of my tongue, everything. I had thought it would be harder, but talking with her about the simple things made me feel more at ease around her. Made me feel like I could just tell her whatever and it would be okay. I had never felt that before and it put me on edge.

I didn't respond.

"Mark?"

I flinched. "Please don't say his name," I whispered. Not him, not today.

"Okay," she said gently, nodding. "Brittany?"

I shook my head quickly. No, definitely not Brittany.

"Your parents?"

I didn't move. I did want to talk about them. The meeting with them was still fresh in my mind. I could still feel my fathers eyes on me, unwavering. My eyes.

"Did you hear the things he said to me?" I said suddenly.

"I did, Santana," she said.

"Why did you make me talk to them? I wasn't ready. You knew I wasn't ready," I said.

She was silent and looked down at the carpet as if there were cue cards for her. "I haven't told Will anything," she said honestly. "I haven't told him about anything you've told me about what happened at the club." She stopped, I waited impatiently. "This is a really complicated situation. Your parents weren't sure how to contact you so when we did and told them you were living with us..."

"Weren't sure how to contact me? That's bull, they were afraid they'd get in trouble for kicking me out," I snapped.

"I know, Santana, but this situation goes beyond anything we've ever dealt with before," she said gently.

The anger reared in me, like a snake waiting to strike. "So I'm something to deal with?"

"Santana," Ms. Pillsbury said firmly. "Listen to me." She paused. "You are not something we deal with, you're someone we care about. There are a lot of rules being broken and this situation is just something..." She stopped, looking for the right words. "I want to help you, first of all. But they are still your parents and your guardians while you're in school."

We lapsed into silence. She still didn't get it. She still didn't understand that just because I had told her these things and just because we were talking now that things were better. They were worse. I was worse. Seeing my parents had blindsided me. I hadn't been ready. I had just told her about Mark...

"He thinks this is my fault," I said suddenly.

"Your father doesn't know how to handle this situation, Santana," she began, shaking her head slightly. She wanted to explain him to me. How she thought he felt.

"No, he's trying to make it my fault," I said, voice rising with each word. "You don't get it. You don't get anything."

I looked up at her. Her face was impassive, it looked the way it always did.

"Why don't you explain it to me?"

I glared at her. I searched myself for the words.

"No matter what happens, it's my fault." I said the words slowly. I needed her to understand how he worked. How things in our family worked.

"When I was younger and something happened or if we got into a fight he would always twist it to where things were my fault or to where things were never good enough." I stopped. I wasn't explaining it right. I had never tried to explain my father to anyone, even Brittany.

"When I got put into the advanced writing class in middle school he asked me why I wasn't in advanced Science or advanced Math. Subjects that would help me in life. Subjects he wanted me to excel in but I never did." I was silent. I could see the memory playing over in my head. My mom had hugged me and told me she was proud. My father had looked at me with those cold eyes and wondered why I wasn't better.

I never did get better enough for him.

"One time," I started, the memory falling into the forefront of my mind. "When I was young and he forgot my piano recital, back when my mother forced me into piano, I had cried and told him that he had promised to come. It was even on his day off. I remember. I checked every day to make sure he was coming." I stopped talking and choked back a sob.

Great, now I was the girl with the daddy issues.

"My mom was there. She was sitting alone. I thought he was parking or something but he wasn't." I remembered looking into the crowd of smiling parental faces. My mom, how she was trying to be happy enough for me, even though he wasn't there.

"When we got home I asked him about it." I remembered him sitting in a chair in the living room, watching the news. "I asked him why he wasn't there. He glanced at me then back to the news. I stepped in front of the TV." I stopped talking remembering the way he had sighed at me.

"I remember asking him why he wasn't there and he said he was tired and that I was too young to understand. I told him he had promised and I was crying because he never came to anything. He just told me I was making a big deal out of nothing just because I could. It was what young girls did and I would learn to outgrow it."

It sounded small and stupid. "I know it's dumb but he did it again. He made me feel like it was my fault, all the time, everything. I joined Cheerios and he said it better not interfere with my grades. I joined Glee and when we won sectionals he said it was just Glee. He let me get a boob job because he probably thought I wasn't even pretty enough."

I remembered when I had asked him and how he had shrugged and said sure, why not, like it was nothing. Like I was asking if I could have some more lunch money.

"I don't get it, you know," I said feeling the frustration and the grief he had left on me building.

"He gives me money and buys me things and he bought me a car but then he just acts like he doesn't care. Like I'm nothing. Like he was supposed to have a kid like he's supposed to have a house and a car and insurance. I just complete his image. And my mom." I growled, thinking about how she just went along with it all. How she just let him be how he was. "She just accepts it and is part of it. Like we're just this unit because we were supposed to be, not because we want it. Not because we love each other."

I thought of the Pierce family, eating dinner together. Happy.

I was silent. It was sinking in. These feelings I had never shared with anyone, never bothered to pick through and understand myself. I felt like I was just realizing who I was, what my life was. Ever since Brittany, ever since she had come into my life and made me realize what love was she had opened my eyes to a new world and a new me. Or maybe it was the me that had always been, the me I had never really thought to look at because I was just doing what I thought I was supposed to be doing. That's all my parents ever did, why would I be any different?

I leaned back on the couch and couldn't bring myself to look at Ms. Pillsbury. I couldn't bring myself to let her see me crying over this. It was stupid. I was stupid. I had other things to deal with. I had Mark and Brittany and this shouldn't be pulling me down too.

"It's whatever," I said, sniffing. "It's the way things are and I just... need to deal."

I wiped my eyes for what I promised myself would be the last time.

"Santana."

I looked at her.

"It's okay to feel like this."

* * *

><p>I pulled the pad of paper out from under the mattress and grabbed my pen off of the bedside table.<p>

I felt different, staring at it. I felt like I had unlocked all of these little doorways inside of me and water was pouring out of every single one, drowning me from the inside out.

_Turmoil._

The word stood out on the paper like a neon sign.

_Turmoil._

_You can give it a name_

I paused. Giving things a name seemed to be the hardest part. Once you put a name to it everything changed. I had changed. I had changed so much. Mark was still on me and I knew that my parents had just pushed him away for now, that things would shift again when their visit wore off.

Then there was Brittany.

What was I feeling at the moment?

I wrote.

_Turmoil._

_You can give it a name,_

_Suiting it so well it makes you sick_

_with grief and understanding._

I reread the few lines over and over again and felt pleased. It wasn't great but it was something. It was a beginning.

I could definitely work with it.


	17. Chapter 17 PlayPretending

**AN: **Thank you for the amazing reviews. Really. I've been internetless for about two weeks now, so I can't upload as often. I have to go find internet. It's lame and so primitive. This chapter is a lot. Enjoy.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 17 | Play-Pretending<strong>

"It's something that needs to be done." Her eyes were gentle.

"I don't understand." I did of course, but I didn't want to face it. It was something I had thought about once, for a fraction of a second before forcing it to the back of my mind.

"Santana, your health comes first." She spoke in that tone of voice I had grown to know meant she was putting her foot down.

I had just been able to push Mark away, stop thinking about him. I was focusing on everything else and now here she was, nudging him to the front again. Wasn't dealing with my parents enough? Couldn't I just take on one obstacle at a time?

"I don't need to see a doctor," I said firmly. I could put my foot down too.

"Santana, what happened to you... You don't know if he had anything, you don't know anything about him." She avoided using his name and I was grateful for that.

"If anything did happen to me I'm probably healed and it's been long enough and I'm not showing any signs of like...having anything." It was true. I remembered the morning after, showering off in the Cheerios locker room and I shivered. It was something I couldn't revisit without feeling panic gripping me. I shook myself, pulling away from the memory. How long had it been? Halloween had just passed... I had been living with Ms. Pillsbury and Mr. Schue for almost a month. I hadn't been home in five weeks.

"We're getting you checked out."

"Fine," I sighed.

"It's tomorrow afternoon."

"During school?"

"No, I wouldn't be able to take you out of school, I'm not a guardian. We're going immediately after."

"Fine," I said again, resigned.

"Do I at least get a lollipop after?"

She stared at me for a long time. She hadn't expected the joke and neither had I. It had slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it. I smiled and she started to laugh. I laughed with her. It felt good, really good.

* * *

><p>I hadn't thought anything of it when she said it. Now though, the idea of going to a doctor scared the hell out of me. I sat with my back straight during English, a nervous wreck. When the bell rang I raced from the room, it felt too tight, like there wasn't enough space, like I was suffocating.<p>

When didn't I feel like I was suffocating?

I didn't want to be at school. I wanted to just be away. Far away. Everything was pushing in on me, making me feel like I had no room to breath or think or see or anything. Anything at all. I needed to get out. I needed to get away but no one would let me. My parents, Brittany, Mr. Schue, Ms. Pillsbury. She was the worst. She _knew. _I had told her things that I had never told anyone and she was just making me go to school and the fucking doctor and I hated her for it.

I hated myself for spilling everything to her. If only I had been stronger. If only I had just kept it to myself.

"Hey."

I turned around.

Brittany.

"Hey," I said, voice flat. I couldn't deal with this.

"Wanna walk to class together?" She was smiling slightly, the way Brittany just smiles because today is a new day and she loves everything.

"Fine," I said shrugging, beginning to walk. I knew she wanted to reach out and link her fingers with mine. I knew she wanted us to be like we were. I ignored her and walked.

She put a hand on me when we turned down the hallway where the choir room was. I stopped and closed my eyes at the touch. No.

"Santana," she said. I turned to look at her. I felt it build in me and I wanted to shove her away and run. I didn't want to blow up on Brittany.

I shook my head slightly. "What?" I hadn't meant to snap.

Her eyebrows came together. "I don't understand."

I was silent. No, we couldn't do this right now. No, I couldn't handle Brittany being sweet and gentle and Brittany and perfect right now. She was what I used to have and I couldn't go back to that. Not like this.

Especially not like this.

"What don't you understand?"

"Why are you so mad?"

I was silent. I looked around the hall, it was emptying. "Forget it, 'kay?" There was the old Santana, all self-built walls and anger. Deny, deny, deny. Fucking get a grip, Lopez.

"Santana," she began.

I was gone.

"What do you want from me, Brittany?" I said loudly. The few students left in the hall stopped and stared. I shot them glares and they dispersed.

She looked shocked, like I had slapped her. I didn't care. I wanted her to hurt, I wanted her to burn, I wanted her to feel what I was feeling because then I wouldn't be alone and I hated being alone. I hated it like I hated myself.

"I'm your friend," she said softly.

I could see it on her face, she didn't understand what she had done wrong. I jumped on it, on her. I let the rage take over.

"And?" I held up my hands.

"I don't know why you're so angry with me, Santana. I said I was sorry, I just want to help you," Brittany said, voice breaking.

I broke with it.

Something else was running the show. It wasn't me. I felt myself beneath the surface, screaming to get out. Like ice had frozen over, but it couldn't be ice because my body was shaking and I was on fire with the anger and tears were threatening to fall down my face and I knew they would be flames when they fell.

"Of course you don't know. When do you ever know anything?" The words left my mouth before I could stop them. They tumbled out.

Tears. Her tears. Tears in her eyes and I caused them.

My jaw clenched, my hands balled in a fist. "Whatever."

I left her there. I left her standing alone in the hallway, hating her. Hating her tears and how when they fell I could hear them hit the floor. I could feel them on my chest like bullets.

* * *

><p>I kept walking. Out of the school and away. Anywhere but here. Anywhere but this place full of these people who felt nothing compared to what I was feeling.<p>

I huffed and scraped my feet against the concrete as I walked. I threw my books onto the ground near the entrance of the building and walked.

Fuck this. Fuck them. Fuck everything.

It wasn't fair. None of it was fair. I didn't want to go to the doctor and Emma couldn't make me. She couldn't force me to go. I wasn't going to let some stranger look at me and see what had happened. I shivered and felt my stomach churn.

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hands, sniffling. I could feel the tears wanting to fall. They pissed me off even more. I walked hard, feet pounding the pavement. I wanted to leave everything behind me. I wanted to leave Brittany behind.

I wanted to leave this anger behind.

It wasn't fair. I didn't know what wasn't fair but it wasn't.

I walked on. Cars whirred past me and I ignored them. I tried to block out the world around me and walk. Each step, hard on the ground seemed to shake my body. It fueled my anger. It fueled me, kept me moving. I wasn't able to stop I didn't want to or I didn't know how. I couldn't remember.

Lately I felt like I was just digging myself into a hole. Since I was already so deep in, why not just keep going? Why not keep digging and sinking?

If only my parents could see me now. What would they do? I knew though. My father would shake his head at me. He would chuckle and look at me like I was a child. Like I was using words I didn't understand and just tell me I was making things big to feel big. Because I wanted to prove myself or some bullshit. Something he could say to win, to make me feel like shit. That's what he did best. Made me feel like I wasn't good enough. Made me feel like I was just a piece in his little collection.

And my mother! She would just agree. Because he may have loved her but now he bought her things to keep her in line. To keep up his image.

Image.

That's what it was. That's what they loved. Not me. The image of the perfect little girl on the Cheerios and the grades and dating stupid boys not girls. That's why they didn't try to find me. That fucking image.

It seethed from me. I finally understood. I finally got it.

The worst part was I had been part of the image and just accepted it. They had tricked me. They had made me think that was all it was, all I was. We were a dollhouse. We were play-pretending. We weren't living.

I knew that a lot of time had passed. I knew that I was in so much trouble. I knew that Ms. Pillsbury would be waiting for me and that she would panic and I should feel guilty. All I felt was venom hissing through me along with all of these thoughts. Thoughts of my father, my mother, my joke of a family.

My feet were killing me. I was pretty sure I couldn't walk anymore. I stopped. I was standing by the park.

Holy shit. That was a long way from the school. I pulled my phone from my pocket. I had been walking for two hours. I was out of breath. The park was empty except for a few kids on the playground. I walked past them. I passed the soccer field, crossed the grounds and made my way back to the glorified pond that everyone in Lima called 'Lake Reba.'

I sat far enough away from the water that the grass wasn't wet. I looked out over the surface. A few ducks were floating on the surface.

The sky was blue and big puffy clouds were rolling over head. I leaned back and let the sun soak into my skin, it was an uncharacteristically warm day. I choked back a sob that had been building but couldn't find a way past my panting. The world looked so peaceful here. The world sounded peaceful. I laid on the grass and closed my eyes.

How could the world be so calm around me? I felt like I was rotting from the inside out. I was so angry, I was so lost. I had nothing, I was nothing.

It was eating me alive. Everything was eating me alive. I was full of reckless energy. The same energy I had felt when I had gone to the club.

I curled into myself in the grass and closed my eyes tight.

Marks hands on me.

My fathers eyes on me.

Brittany's tears falling on me.

I screamed. I screamed until my throat was raw and I felt like I would bleed and choke on my own blood.

* * *

><p>I woke up shivering. There was a slight breeze. My inactive body betrayed me to the cold. The sun was still in the sky, but clouds had moved in to cover it. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, it was almost three. Everyone would know I was gone.<p>

I jumped to my feet and stretched, trying to get some blood flow going.

I began the long walk back towards the apartment building. My feet were aching, my body was stiff and I had a pounding headache. I knew I was a long way away. I cursed at myself for being so dumb and walking so far. I felt drained, exhausted. My face felt like it was on fire and I continued to shiver. My throat felt raw.

I remembered screaming at nothing and felt myself flinch.

What was happening to me? Was I losing my mind?

When I saw the apartment building come into view I felt like crying. I wanted to run but I didn't have it in me. Every step took so much. I was spent, completely spent. I just wanted to curl into a ball on the pavement and hope that Mr. Schue or Ms. Pillsbury found me. Even if they didn't, that would be okay too. Maybe I could just shrivel up like burned paper and blow away. I felt like burned paper, like there was nothing left.

I choked back a sob, like I had at the park. I tried to play it off as a cough and realized no one was around me. I was alone. I laughed, but it was strangled and it scared me and I realized just how exposed I was to the world.

Fear gripped me like it hadn't in a long time. I felt like a deer being stalked in the woods by a wolf or maybe a lion or maybe I was just a girl walking home that was losing her mind.

I walked into the complex and kept my eyes down. I needed to get inside. I needed to get under a bed. I needed for people to not look at me or I was going to scream or vomit on their shiny floors and then I would be in trouble. Because I would have ruined something else.

I had ruined everything. Everything was ruined. I was ruined.

I choked back another sob and pushed the up button on the elevator over and over again. When the bell dinged I jumped and threw myself into the doors, I leaned against the wall and pressed the close door button. I needed to get away from everyone looking at me.

There were only three people in the lobby.

The doors closed and I pressed my head against the cool metal, feeling relieved. The doors opened and I stumbled out. I caught myself on the wall and moved down the hall, towards the right apartment. I tried to be quiet. I didn't want anyone to hear me. Just let me be.

I pulled the lone key from my back pocket, unlocked the door and opened it.

I stumbled inside. Was I drunk? I was dizzy. My stomach ached. From hunger or maybe it was just mad at me too. I felt my body begin to shiver again. I shut the door and leaned against it. I wanted to cry. I wanted to lie down on the floor and die.

I felt my mouth filling with spit.

My stomach churned.

I rushed to the bathroom and collapsed on the floor. I whimpered, my legs felt dead underneath me. I pulled my self up and leaned over the toilet. My stomach heaved and I felt tears falling from my eyes. I couldn't tell if I was sad or if it was just a reaction. I coughed hard and gagged. I was breathing heavily. Then I wasn't breathing at all. My stomach churned and I felt bile rising in my throat. It burned my mouth and I tasted acid. I had skipped breakfast, there was nothing in me to expel. Just acid that burned my throat and made me cough which made me gag. Rinse and repeat, repeat, repeat.

I was sobbing. My body was shaking so hard it hurt. I felt like I was going to die. It hurt, I hurt so much.

I laid down on the cold tile floor and used my arm as a pillow. I felt tears pouring from my eyes and everything burned, my nose and throat.

"I'm so sorry," I sobbed out loud. No one was there. "I'm so, so sorry."

The words tumbled out of me like bile. I couldn't stop it. I couldn't stop myself. I was out of control like I never had been. The cold tile felt so good against my skin but I'm pretty sure it was also causing me to shake so violently.

I was flooded with memories. Hands on me. Eyes on me. Tears falling.

My breath hitched in my throat. "Brittany, I'm so sorry," I sobbed. "Brittany."

I felt my arm extending, as if reaching out for her on the cold tile. I wanted her there more than anything. I needed her more than I had ever needed anything. She was the only thing that had been real. She was the only thing that had ever meant anything.

Everything else had been play pretending.

* * *

><p>Strong arms were pulling me up. I was off the cold tile and I felt instantly better. I had been shaking again. Violently. So violently it hurt and the pounding in my head felt like I had been drinking or someone was hitting me. I felt fuzzy around the edges.<p>

I whimpered as the arms adjusted me.

"Just take her to her room," a voice said. It was strained.

I turned into the person holding her. It was male. My body stiffened and I tried to pull away. I tried to but I couldn't move. I had nothing left in me.

"Santana, it's okay," said a voice. I felt it rumbling in his chest. It had to be Mr. Schue. His voice was strained, too.

I shook my head against his chest. They were talking. My head pounded too hard for me to be able to understand what they were saying. Maybe I had forgotten words, though. Maybe it was just me. I was pretty sure it was just me.

He lowered me onto my bed. It was unbelievably soft. I felt my body relax immediately and I stopped shivering. I curled onto my side and buried myself into my pillow. A blanket was thrown over me. I felt warmth begin to build under it.

Someones hand was on my cheek. I turned slightly and opened my eyes. Everything took a minute to focus. Ms. Pillsbury was standing over me. She looked pale, shocked.

"Santana?" She said it quietly.

I just stared at her, eyes wide.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"I think I'm sick," I tried to say. It came out as a whisper. I had no voice. It was gone. It had gotten tired of me or scared away. Maybe I had thrown it up into the toilet.

"Your forehead is so hot," she said putting a cool hand against me. I closed my eyes at her touch.

"I think I'm sick," I repeated. Not just physically ill. I wish she knew what I meant. There was something wrong with me.

There was something really, really wrong with me.


	18. Chapter 18 The Out

**AN: **Long time no see. I had to take a break from this story. I wanted to finish my scary one and then it was almost Christmas and friends were in town from college and I got super busy. Which, isn't a great excuse considering I finished a story, posted two one-shots and three chapters of my newest story during my supposed 'Winter Hiatus'.

Miles is just heavy to write anyway. Honestly, I don't even like it anymore. Which is sad, because it jump started me into fanfiction, again and writing. It just seems like it's not good and the only redeeming quality is my ability to capture Santana's emotions. But I'm going to finish it, I want to. I'm going to try to make it better. Hopefully, you didn't forget about me.

Also, got a tumblr! It's just PenelopeCross and then you know, the tumblr part, so yeah. If you're interested in following me, I'm probably going to start posting things on there. I'd like to use it to test the waters on some new ideas I have regarding Brittana fics that I'd like feedback for.

Also, you should really go take a look at my new story Fighting for Nothing. Why, you might ask? Well!, it's a different type of angst from Miles, but it's Brittana and I love it and I have high hopes for it. So, yeah.

Anyway, you've been patient for far too long.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 18 | The Out<br>**

I opened my eyes. I was lying on my back. I stared at the ceiling. I tried to absorb.

Last night had been terrible. I felt like something huge had happened and I was waking up, hungover from the drama. What had happened to me? I had to be going crazy. I had to be losing my mind. My throat felt raw and my head ached slightly. I felt warm, but the idea of taking the covers away sounded so awful I couldn't bring myself to do it.

I threw an arm over my eyes. If I could just lie here forever.

I sat up in bed. The slight ache in my head became a pounding. I pulled my legs up against my chest and rested my forehead on my knees. I stayed until the pounding calmed again.

I felt my stomach growl. I was hungry. Starving really.

I reached to the bedside table and pulled the notebook and pen I had been storing there. I opened it and stared at the attempts of poetry and the few lines I had written.

I turned the page. I was feeling something else.

What?

I bit the end of the pen.

_Like I'm on the edge_

Th edge of what?

Glory.

I smiled and a small laugh escaped my lips. My hand flew to my mouth and I stared. I felt my eyes wide, like I had just broken a rule. I was shocked. It had been so.. long since I had just laughed and meant it.

I stared at the paper. My small smile slowly faded away.

The room was so quiet. I felt so small.

_Like I'm on the edge of insanity._

I stared at the words. They felt so real.

_Everything's prettier on the edge of insanity._

I scribbled them out angrily.

"Ugh," I huffed to the room. I wanted to write something so badly. I wanted to put something on paper but I couldn't seem to get my thoughts in order. I couldn't seem to find anything that made sense or didn't suck.

I inhaled and closed my eyes.

Yesterday had been so bad. It was a different bad then what happened with Mark or my parents. It had all been me. It had all come from somewhere deep in me. The realization that everything had just been fake. That everything had just been image.

I clenched my jaw. If I could just get it out. If I could just write it down.

_How my stomach churns_

_I'm sick of tied tongues_

_and the jaws I wire shut._

_Cold brittle hands on my jaw._

_Can't scrub anymore. It isn't_

_a pastime and I don't remember_

_the rules. So it's cheating._

_It's all wrong._

_I'm yelling for you. I'm yelling_

_through lips that are sewn shut._

_And I start churning again. _

_They send me to beddy-bye where the_

_blanket isn't fire proof. The big_

_bads pull my hair, heart, and_

_drawstrings._

_It's a sick game._

_Shooting up with the monsters. _

_Where are the Pretty Things? None_

_of it is fire proof._

I stared at the page. The words had come out. They had fallen through me, through the pen and into the ink that zoomed across the paper. I stared at it. Eyes wide. Reading, rereading. It was jumbled and none of it made sense.

But it all made perfect sense. Like I had written in a code only I knew. My hand was shaking slightly. I put the pen down and read the words for a third time. I looked up and stared at the wall in front of me.

I was losing it. I was seriously going off the deep end. I could feel it. I could feel it welling inside of me. I could feel myself seeping away or turning in on myself. Different from when I was keeping Mark bottled up.

I flinched away, as if he was there. I couldn't help myself.

I had never felt more vulnerable.

I put the notebook back in the bedside table drawer. I slid back down into the blankets and pulled them tight around me. I wasn't getting out of bed. Not today. Not ever. This was not okay. I was not okay.

Everything had been a lie. Everything was just a lie.

* * *

><p>She forced me to go to the doctor. I didn't go to school and I was so thankful for that. I could barely get out of bed when Ms. Pillsbury came into the room, telling me I had an appointment in two hours.<p>

It took thirty minutes to get out of bed. Another half hour to shower. Ten minutes to brush my teeth, fix my hair and change into clothes.

I rode in the passenger seat of her car, tucked into myself, wrapped in a coat. I sat in the waiting room at the clinic with my head down, staring at the cold tile floor. When they called my name I felt my heart jolt. I wasn't afraid of doctors but for some reason I felt terrified. Like I was on display. Like they were going to look at me and know everything.

I wrapped my coat tighter around myself and stood up off of the plastic chair.

"Do you want me to go with you?" Ms. Pillsbury asked gently from her own chair.

Yes, please. "I'll be fine," I said, voice hoarse.

Her eyes lingered on my face, looking, searching. Then she nodded and I turned towards the nurse who was waiting by the open door. I had never felt so scared. I wanted to just run away or go back and grab Ms. Pillsbury by the hand.

"This way," the nurse said leading me through a maze of rooms. She stopped us by a scale and took my weight. I was a little surprised I had lost five pounds. I thought it would be more. But Ms. Pillsbury made me eat.

Then I was in my own room. Waiting. It was blue. Like insane asylum muted blue and I wanted Brittany to be there even though she probably hated me and I felt like I was still supposed to hate her. But I couldn't anymore. I felt like all the anger had drained out of me. It was gone and all that was left was nothing. Nothing and empty and heaviness and oh god if I could just have her with me to hold my hand I would be okay.

The doctor sat down in front of me and stared at me for a long time before speaking. It was after the exam, after she had prodded me and checked everything out and made me feel like I really _was _on display.

"Santana," she began.

I kept my eyes down.

"You look fine. We'll get your test results back in a while, but I'm pretty sure you're going to be okay. You look healthy, maybe a little underweight, but, still healthy."

I nodded.

"Still, I wanted to ask you, is there anything you want to talk about? You seem to be a bit..." She was silent, thoughtful, looking for the right words.

"I'm fine."

She smiled softly at me. "I'm a doctor, you're physically fine, but you seem to be very withdrawn and I worry that that might be the reason for the weight loss. Maybe stress?"

I cleared my throat and kept my eyes on the muted blue walls. "I'm fine."

She nodded. "Well, don't forget to stop by the desk and get an excuse for school on the way out."

I nodded.

"And Santana?"

"Yeah?" I said, head moving to look up at her.

"You can talk to me, you know, if you need it. We have resources here at the clinic to help." She smiled at me and left the room, not glancing back. Everyone could see I was losing it. It must be painted on me. It couldn't be that easy to see, though. It just couldn't.

Whatever was left of me seemed to drain away as I made my way to the waiting room.

Ms. Pillsbury had been reading. When I came out the door she shut her book and was at my side quickly. I don't know why she was being so weird. She wouldn't let me out of her sight. She talked to the doctor and everything else was a blur but I got a school excuse and then we were driving home.

I didn't really remember much. I remember something about being offered food before I climbed into bed and went back to sleep.

* * *

><p>I sat at the desk, staring down at my notebook, ignoring the teacher.<p>

"Santana?"

I was vaguely aware someone was saying my name.

"Santana?" The voice was more persistent, harder.

My head snapped up. "What?" I barked at the teacher. The word was clipped, the t at the end crisp.

"Excuse me?" He repeated, surprised at my response.

"What do you want?" I snapped back. Fuck it, I didn't care.

He stood for a second. "I'll excuse your little outburst for the time being if you can answer my question," he said, teeth grit together.

"I don't fucking care," I said plainly, looking out the window. I heard someone inhale behind me, a few mutterings, scattered laughter in the back of the class.

The teacher said nothing. He crossed to his desk and pulled out a pink pad of papers. A write up.

"I'll save you the paper," I said, getting up, grabbing my stuff and leaving the class. I didn't want any of this anyway. I didn't want to have to come to school anymore. I wanted to just be nowhere. Be nothing.

Nonexistent or floating.

I pushed the door open, harder than I thought, I heard it bounce off the stone wall. I walked, not quickly, just hard, feet pounding the floor like they had done me wrong.

I heard light foot steps behind me. I ignored it. I could out stomp a teacher. But then the footsteps caught up to me. Were beside me, stepping in front of me and stopping me in my tracks.

Brittany.

"Hey," she said, face furrowed deep into worry, showing lines I hadn't really seen before.

"What?" I said, voice dead. No snap, no bark. I couldn't remember our last encounter but I knew it hadn't been good. There had been venom, my venom and anger. My anger.

"Where are you going?"

"I dunno." I looked down at my feet. Then back up. I saw the Brittany cogs turning behind her eyes. Or maybe I just recognized that face, that, I've got an idea, face.

"Well, I do." She grabbed for my hand, as if nothing had happened. As if I hadn't snapped at her and ignored her and been so wrapped up in my own shit that I had forgotten she was a person too, a person who probably had needed her best friend while I was busy fucking everything up.

* * *

><p>"Just tell me where we're going," I said, sighing and sitting back in the passenger seat.<p>

"Trust me," Brittany replied simply.

I glanced down at the floorboard, where my feet were and waited. She had gotten on the interstate, taking us north. We had walked out of school, just walked out, like it was nothing. I mean, it was to me. But to Brittany? Brittany who never did anything wrong unless I was there urging her on.

I frowned.

"Smile, pretty," Brittany said quietly from the drivers seat. "We're gonna have fun."

I turned to look at her. She was focused on the road, switching lanes with ease and grace. Brittany commanded everything with grace. She may not have been one for words, she may say random things but when Brittany _did_ something it was almost always perfect.

We drove for a while longer, taking an exit, into and driving for a little while. I didn't notice the roads Brittany was taking until we were pulling up to it. The giant mall. The one we always used to visit before things got so...fucked up.

But she didn't turn into the mall, she made a turn sooner than I expected, driving us to...the book store. Joseph-Beth. It was separate from the mall and big. Really big. We'd been there maybe twice our entire lives.

"Wait, why Joseph-Beth?" I asked, looking at her.

She parked the car and unbuckled. "Book stores are quiet. And they're fun. And they have an awesome kids section here." She smiled at me and stuffed the keys to her car into her Cheerios jacket pocket.

It felt weird not wearing one and hanging out with her. "Okay," I said slowly.

"You need calm," she said simply, opening the car door and getting out.

I waited for half a beat and followed her inside.

It was bigger than I imagined and the store was like one giant circle. We explored a while, amazed to find a restaurant in the book store on the bottom floor and a cafe on the top floor. Brittany perused the childrens section for a long time, squealing with delight when she found a cute stuffed animal or a particularly interesting pop up book. She read one of her favorites to me as we sat on the little stage where book readings took place.

There was even a fountain inside of the store. It was ridiculous and way cooler than I remembered.

So when we exhausted the kids section, perused the over-priced DVDs and CDs we took time to look at the rest of the store. There was a huge section of just fiction, a very small alcove for science fiction that I wouldn't let Brittany touch. We spent a long time looking at the rows and rows of glossy covers of magazines. We both agreed that skipping the History and political-section was cool.

And then I spotted it. A tiny row of books squeezed between cook books and language books. Self-help. But that wasn't what caught my eyes. One book, with a gray cover and that word on it.

_Rape._

I stopped and stared. Brittany was still looking through a magazine that had Lady Gaga on the cover. I glanced at her. Then glanced at the book. I moved towards it. I couldn't help myself. I wanted to see it. See what it had to say. Tell me it's secrets because maybe then I could just...

I didn't know what. Maybe I just could.

I picked it up.

I opened to the beginning and read a few pages. There was a story in the preface about a girl. About what happened to her. About how she told the author, got it off her chest. It talked about a lot of things I wanted to read more about.

I stared at the cover. I wanted it. I wanted it really, really badly and I didn't know why. It just felt like I needed it. It felt like...other people knew and their stories were in this book and what they did and how they felt was in this book and I needed to know.

"Whatchya got?" Brittany asked, coming to stand close to me.

Had it been any other time she would have rested her head on my shoulder, thrown an arm around my waist, been friendly. It stung that she didn't. It stung worse because it was my fault.

"Nothing," I said, quickly putting the book back on the shelf and moving to stand in front of it. She couldn't see.

"No, tell me, I saw you reading. You looked all intense," Brittany said trying to step around me. I moved with her, blocking her way. She smiled and I knew then she saw it as a game.

My heart was hammering. She was so close. I was so stupid. She was going to know. She was going to find out and oh my god. "Look, it's fine," I said quickly, almost pleading. I knew my eyes were wide, my breath gone.

"San," she said quietly, letting her hand drop to her side. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, okay," I said. I reached up and gripped her shoulder. "It's just a stupid book."

It felt like something had awoken inside of me. Fear. It rippled, like I had thrown a stone into a pool of water and they had bounced around the edges until they were waves, giant waves crashing against my chest, making my heart pound and my head feel light.

"Okay," she said, nodding her head slowly. "It's okay."

I nodded too, looking past her shoulder, focusing on nothing. Why the fuck couldn't I keep it together? But I couldn't. There had been so much focus on my family I had let Mark slip away from me. I had let him hide and he had waited until he could blind side me. Now, in the middle of a book store.

Fuck.

_Fuck._

"Santana," Brittany said quietly. "You're okay."

I nodded again, only slightly.

We stood there, silent. I felt myself coming down. The panic that had settled in was calming down, becoming quiet, my heart returned to a normal pace.

"Can I please look at the book?" She asked so quietly I almost didn't hear her.

I didn't move. I couldn't. I was frozen. My head was screaming, screaming so loudly I could have sworn I felt my throat itch, burn. My eyes stayed unfocused, looking past Brittany. She skirted around me and reached for the gray book, she pulled it off the shelf and stood in front of me. Reading the cover.

She stared at the cover for ten seconds. I counted each second and it still felt like a century.

"Do you want it?" She asked, voice still quiet.

I didn't say anything.

"I'll buy it for you."

My mouth was sewn shut.

"I don't mind," she said, voice gentle. She made an awkward move towards me and stopped. I could see her open her mouth in my peripherals. She closed it and stopped. She looked at the book cover again, then at me.

I closed my eyes and prayed she wasn't there, didn't have the book.

I opened them. She was staring at me, saying nothing, eyes soft, calm. She grabbed my hand with her own and pulled me away, still holding the book.

* * *

><p>Brittany had bought the book and handed it to me in a small brown paper bag. I clutched it to my chest as we left the store and mumbled a thank you to her. I think I was in shock. I think she knew that, too. She spent the car ride talking, telling me things I had missed, talking about Glee.<p>

Then we pulled into her drive way.

"Thanks," I said quietly, staring that the brown bag in my lap.

"It's fine," she said, voice as quiet as mine.

I could feel it hanging there, between us. She knew. I knew she knew. Brittany wasn't stupid. She understood things, just differently than a lot of people. But she understood what the book meant.

"Santana," she said softly. She was sitting in the passenger seat, staring at the steering wheel.

"Yeah," I said, barely a whisper.

"What happened?"

There it was. Finally.

And I felt...

It was an out. It was a way to talk about it. I felt so tired. Tired of everything being so hard. I was exhausted of feeling so pent up. I couldn't remember why I was hiding or afraid or keeping everything to myself anymore. Brittany did that to me though, she put my world upside down. But here was this out, this small moment in her car. I could just tell her. It would be different than telling Mrs. Pillsbury. It wouldn't be because I had to it would be because I needed a friend now. I needed Mrs. Pillsbury as someone to look after me, but Brittany...I just needed her.

"I got...raped, Brittany," I said slowly. My voice was even, though it shook when I said that word. That one word that seemed to make me shiver.

She was silent, unmoving, like a statue.

But I didn't want her to say anything. I wanted to talk. I needed to. I needed to tell her. I needed to let her in again. I needed her to understand. I needed her, I needed her, I needed her.

"When my parents kicked me out and I was living outside and I just was stupid," I said. I remembered what had sent me over the edge. I remembered how it was her sitting in Artie's lap. That betrayal, that shock had been too much. But that wasn't what mattered. I didn't want to blame her. I didn't want to blame anyone. I just wanted to get it out. I just wanted to talk and have someone listen.

"I let this guy hit on me and when I didn't want to do anything with him he..." I stopped and inhaled a shaking breath. My hands felt cold, my heart pounded. I expected tears. I expected more. But this wasn't releasing the grief anymore. It wasn't reliving and realizing. This was...

This was accepting it.

I accepted it.

And that made the swell disappear and my hands shake and my voice waver. It was so big. "He hurt me. He raped me. He left me in this alleyway and I just came back to school and just fucking tried to sleep outside and it was so hard. I was so alone." I made myself stop. I could feel it building in me again, that awful swell.

"Oh San," she said, voice breaking. I looked over at her. She was turned to face me, silent tears running down her cheeks, blue eyes bright.

"I'm sorry, Britt," I said, reaching across the console and wiping at her tears.

"Why didn't you tell me? I'm your best friend," she said, body shaking, chest beginning to heave with sobs.

"When I saw you with Artie, it just drove me mad and I had to go do something, prove something and it was stupid," I said, but she cut me off.

"San, what?"

"That day, a while ago. You were sitting on his lap, you kissed his cheek..." I could see it in my head, clear as day. But the way she spoke made me feel like I had missed something.

"He got asked to do a local commercial. Direct it. I was congratulating him," she said. She wiped her eyes and inhaled a shaking breath. "Santana, the summer, our argument, you were so distant." She was just saying things. She was confused. "I'm your best friend first and always, you know that." She wasn't angry. She was confused.

I felt my heart weigh heavy in my chest, like someone had strapped lead to it. "I was so lost," I said softly. I felt a little attacked by her words but I knew she had no intent to hurt me. She just didn't understand.

She grabbed my hands in her own and squeezed them gently. "I'm so sorry that happened," she said. "I wish I..." She stopped. Her eyes were scrunched, I could see her thinking hard.

"Brittany, no, this isn't your fault. It's my fault," I said, trying to get her to look at me.

"You can't say things like that, Santana," she said, shrugging and sighing heavily. "It's not your fault."

"I went to the club," I said. She was wrong. It was my fault.

"Santana, he raped you."

It rang in the small space of the car. I stared at the steering wheel.

"It's not your fault," she whispered.

I shook my head at her and pulled my hands away. "This is all my fault," I said, voice unsure. It was.

And then I felt lost in my head, like Brittany had grabbed me and shook me with her words and now nothing made sense. I knew it was my fault because...it was. Wait. I shook my head but just barely. I tried to to put it all back in place.

"Santana, you didn't do anything wrong, this was something horrible that happened to you, not because of you," she said.

And it hit me so hard I couldn't breath. I didn't know what we were talking about anymore. Mark, my parents, my entire life. Fuck. My hand went to my face and wiped away the wetness at my eyes. The sobs caught in my throat and I wouldn't let them out. Not now. I didn't understand.

"Britt," I said, whispering. I felt my body shaking. "Fuck."

"San," she said soothingly, leaning further across the console and pulling me close to her. Closer than I had been in months. I buried my face into her neck and felt at home. I felt safe. And slowly the panic and the heaviness seemed to melt down into just water again.

I pulled away from her and searched her face. "I've made a mess out of everything," I said quietly.

"No, babe," she said gently.

"Everything is so messed up, though."

"You've got me," she said.

I believed her. I had missed her so much. I let my eyes wander over every line, every curve. How could I have forgotten what Brittany was? She was everything. She was the only thing worth having in Lima and I had pushed her away when I needed her most and I couldn't remember why.

"I'm sorry for just putting this on you," I said, holding her gaze with my own.

"That's what we do for each other, don't apologize," she whispered, leaning her forehead against mine. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

Her lips were right there and I wanted to smack myself for thinking about her as someone to kiss. But our relationship, whatever it was...things had just happened so fast. I didn't even know where we stood. We had been distant, so distant. I had been so lost in myself and now. It was like she was pulling me out into the world again and I was realizing what I had missed, realizing all I had missed with Brittany.

It was like a slap to the face. Or cold water being thrown on me. Or when you're dreaming and you fall and jolt awake. That's what it was. I was being jolted into the world again. Talking to Emma had helped, the other day...I seemed to get it all out of my system. Everything was changing so fast. Always so fast. Me, my parents, Mark, living with Will and Emma, no Brittany. It was too much. It was so hard.

But being with her in the moment. That was easy. That was always easy.

"Britt," I whispered.

"Yeah?" I could feel her breath on my skin, closer.

"I've missed you," I replied.

"Yeah?"

"I..." I stopped. An odd sensation, on my hip. I looked down, breaking our moment. My phone in my pocket...vibrating.

My phone that had been shut off by my parents.

I used my free hand to pull it out of my pocket. I stared at it, eyes wide.

"Who is it?" Brittany asked.

"My mom."


	19. Chapter 19 I Missed You

**AN**: I'm sorry it took so long to update again. I'm finally getting internet for my apartment and was going to wait until I was able to get online to update, but I finally finished this and wanted to upload. I also went through this horrible period where I would lie on my couch, try not to die, then go to work. So, yeah, it's been a crazy week.

Don't worry, I can't not finish this story now.

Anyway, your reviews are fantastic, as always. I'm glad you didn't give up on me.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 19 | I Missed You<br>**

"Hello?" I said it slowly, unsure. I felt unsure. Here she was calling me like it was nothing. I didn't know how to feel. I had just spilled my biggest secret to Brittany, Brittany who had been gone so long. Here was my mother, ruining that reunion.

"Santana? Oh, thank god, it worked," she said quickly. She sounded different than I remember. She sounded quick, watery as if she was about to cry. "I've been so worried about you. Mrs. Pillsbury called and said you left school again."

My mind seemed to kick itself into overdrive. They were telling my parents what I was doing. I wanted to feel angry at them, resent them, but...it just wasn't there.

"Santana?" She said again, voice quiet.

"Yeah," I replied, looking at Brittany with wide eyes. Her eyes were just as wide, staring back, questioning, trying to figure out what was happening. I put the phone against my leg and whispered: "Emma. I forgot..."

"Oh," she whispered looking down. I saw her dig into her pocket and begin texting furiously, I put the phone up to my ear again.

"-ana, are you there?" She was saying, voice desperate.

"I'm here," I said, tone even. It was too surreal.

"Santana..." she stopped. "Please come home. I miss you so much, so does your father. I know that we've got a lot to work through but please come home. Please, mija."

The endearment made my heart stop and my head spin. What was she even saying? It's like the words weren't going through my head. I understood them, but I wasn't taking them in. What did she want from me. "What?" I asked, voice filled with confusion, disbelief and something else lingering in the background as if it were forgotten about and hoping someone would remember it was there...was that want? Did I want to go back?

And then it blindsided me like so many things did these days. I did want to go back. I missed them so much.

But I wasn't supposed to, was I?

They hated me, didn't they?

Everything was a question. Second guessing, that had never been me. I felt like I was on sensory overload, like when Britt and I used to go to thrift stores all the time but all the clutter and rows and rows of stuff would just make me feel dizzy. I felt that now.

"I...," I opened my mouth and realized I had nothing to say, I wasn't even thinking about a response, I was still processing. "I don't know." I didn't know. I was in too much right now. I was just getting back to Brittany and that seemed more important. That seemed extremely important.

"Santana," my mother said softly. I could tell she was about to cry and I didn't want her to at all.

In all honesty I had been expecting the rage to boil up in me again, to help me lash out at her, to tell her all of the horrible things I had been feeling towards her since the day I had to leave. The day when I sneaked back into the house crept to my mind, how she had asked me to leave again, but no anger came. I felt empty, drained, like a car out of gas and the station was just right there.

"I just need time to think," I said, gripping the phone tightly. I pulled it away from my face and hung up. I set it on my lap and stared at it, mind working quickly but coming up with nothing.

"What'd she say?" Brittany asked quietly from the drivers seat.

"She wants me to come home," I mumbled. I didn't know where to go from here. This time was different though. I didn't feel helpless, just, there was nothing left in me to give to everyone who wanted something. School and Emma and Will and now my mom. I looked at Brittany.

"I texted Mr. Schue," she said quietly. "I told him you were with me."

My heart froze. He didn't know, what if she had told him? "Did you tell him anything?" My voice was fast, low, scared, like a caged animal.

She shook her head gently and tilted it, looking at me, seeing me. "No, San, I'm not gonna tell anyone," she said barely above a whisper.

I believed her. I knew I could trust her. It was Brittany. Brittany. Brittany who had been gone for so long and here she was again. Brittany who I had mistreated by ignoring and countless other ways and here she was still. I looked down at the phone again.

"I've missed you," I said again.

A warm hand on my neck, just below my jaw, the pad of her thumb tracing at my jawline. "I've missed you," she replied in that sweet Brittany voice I had missed more than I had realized.

My phone buzzed again on my lap, making me jump. I looked down, I didn't recognize the number on the screen. I picked up the phone and answered. "Hello?"

"Santana?" Mrs. Pillsbury.

"Mrs. Pillsbury," I said, throat clenching with guilt. I looked up at Brittany's dashboard, almost three o'clock.

"Where are you? What happened? Will told me you were with Brittany?" Her questions were spoken quickly as if she would get her answers faster. She was worried, I recognized that tone.

"I'm with Brittany," I said simply.

"You can't just leave school, we talked about this," her voice was stern now. She was upset . After my stunt a few days ago she had made me sit down with her and talk about guidelines. Always guidelines, I think it should have bothered me more than it did.

"I know, I'm sorry, I just..." Just what? It was too much but now it all felt like nothing. I had shifted, tilted on an axis or something and it had thrown the seasons off, thrown me off. "I told Brittany." The words tumbled out of me on their own.

She was silent.

I waited, suddenly having all the patience in the world.

"Santana, that's," she was silent. I could almost see her face, her wide eyes searching the ground as her mind processed what this meant for my progress. What this meant for me. I didn't want technical terms.

"Ask if you can stay the night," Brittany whispered from the driver's seat.

And I smiled. I legitimately smiled. It felt like middle school again where we would call our parents after school and beg to be able to go to the others house. It was so familiar, so warm, so everything that I had missed.

"That's very good," she said, voice even, therapist voice like we were at another session.

"Yeah," I said, looking at Brittany and nodding slightly. She smiled, it was small, sneaky, as if to say her plan was working. "I know I was stupid for leaving, but can I stay with Brittany tonight? Her parents won't mind and I think I just need a break. And you could have your place to yourself again."

And then another wave of guilt hit me. I was taking so much more from them than I thought. Their privacy, their home, their things, their food. I was being so selfish and I hadn't even realized it.

"Santana," she began slowly, looking for the words.

"I know, but please? I haven't seen her in so long," I said, almost desperately. I was embarrassed Brittany could hear me but at the same time I felt like she needed to hear me and understand that I needed her and had missed her and I was sorry. I was so, so sorry. For everything. To everyone.

"Okay," she relented. "But if you don't go to school tomorrow...there will be consequences, Santana." Her voice was firm, like a parent.

Again, the anger should have flared in me, I should have told her she wasn't my mother, cut her with my words, become angry and resentful and instead...nothing.

"Thanks," I said, smile faltering under the thoughts zooming through me. "I'll find you in the morning."

"Okay, well, be safe," she said.

Call ended.

* * *

><p>The house was empty. No one was home, just the two of us. Alone.<p>

In her big empty house.

I was a million things at once. But all I could really focus on was Brittany, being with Brittany again. I hadn't seen it happening but keeping what happened in, keeping Mark bottled up had been terrible but keeping Brittany out had just been horrible. Like swallowing water while I was underwater. I had been drowning.

I felt guilty for needing her so much.

I felt so relieved I was here with her.

I felt so relieved she knew and things were exactly the same. Nothing had changed. I don't know why I had expected them to. I don't know why I had thought she would see things differently, treat me differently. That was the opposite of the way Brittany acted. That was...the way I acted.

"Are you hungry?"

I looked up from Brittany's bed. I had been lying on my back, staring at the ceiling. The book was still in the brown bag, I hadn't let go of it since we left the book store.

"I'm fine," I said, pushing myself up.

"Well," she said, voice trailing off. She was standing in the middle of the room and crossed to the bed, sitting beside me crossing her legs. "Wanna talk?"

"'Bout what?" I mumbled sitting up and crossing my own legs. I clutched onto the bag, hard.

"Santana," she started, eyes fluttering closed for a second and then landing on me, inviting. "Anything you want."

I nodded and looked down at the bag in my hands. I didn't want to pull the book out. It was evidence. I had told her but I couldn't just throw it around. I couldn't just throw it around. The weight of telling her was starting to weigh on me so strongly now. That she just knew, that she was processing the information, that when she looked at me it was with eyes that knew what had happened, what I had done.

I felt the fear rise in me and I think she did too. She crawled up the bed and laid down, pulling at the hem of my shirt for me to follow.

I watched her for a second and the panic settled. I clutched the brown paper bag and set it on the bedside table with shaking hands. She smiled when I laid beside her and pulled me close. I buried my face in her neck and shivered. I wasn't cold I was just...overwhelmed.

"Shhhh," she whispered into my ear, her breath was warm and comforting. She disentangled herself long enough to lean up and grab the blanket folded at the end of the bed, she threw it over us.

"Britt," I whispered voice thick and wet and needy.

"I'm here," she whispered back letting me tuck myself into her as if we were two puzzle pieces that finally got switched the right way. It was a perfect fit, she felt right and warm against me.

"Okay," I said, sniffling loudly and unattractively. "I'm sorry, you know. I really am, please know that."

"I know, San," Brittany said and her voice was gentle and slightly wavering.

"I'm just so tired. I'm exhausted from everything. From hiding everything for so long, I tried so hard," I said. I felt a little delirious. The words were just pouring out of me, washing out of me. I felt like I was being cleansed, like Brittany was this new addition in my life that was wiping the slate clean.

"Shhh, I know," she repeated to me over and over, reassuring, loving.

I felt her lips on the top of my head.

Then I felt nothing.

* * *

><p>When I woke up I was warm, really warm. I was wrapped in a blanket, completely under it. My clothes felt askew on my body and my mouth felt really dry. I turned over and felt my jeans shift far to the left. I groaned, annoyed and wanting to fall back into sleep.<p>

I pushed myself up with my hands and felt uncomfortably tangled in everything. I forced the blanket off of me and threw my legs over the side of the bed. I stood up and stretched, adjusting my clothes until they felt right. I looked around the room, it looked dark outside through Brittany's curtains. I checked the clock by her bed, almost seven.

I made my way carefully and slowly down the hall. I felt like an intruder, even though I had pretty much grown up at the Pierces. I stopped at the top of the stairs and listened hard. I could hear my breathing, my heartbeat and the Pierces, voices echoing through the dining room.

They were laughing, talking. They sounded so normal, so at ease with each other. I remembered the last time my family and I had sat down to eat dinner together and it had been so quiet.

I walked back to Brittany's room and shut the door behind me. I wanted to block them out. I sat on the bed and stared ahead. I felt empty, so empty. I was here dumping everything on Brittany and being this burden. But she wanted me here. She took me out, it was her idea. She bought the book.

The book.

I looked at the bedside table. It was just sitting there, in the brown paper bag. I stared at it for a second before climbing back onto the bed and settling myself with my back against the headboard. I grabbed the bag and held it in my lap.

The book felt cold in my hands. I opened and thumbed through a few pages. It felt weird, really weird. As the pages turned the word kept appearing, almost like it was in bold, raised off the paper. Screaming at me. I shut it quickly and held it tight, staring down at the cover.

What the hell was I thinking?

This was going too far. Too much too soon. Telling Brittany, being here, this book. She bought the book. She bought it for me to help me.

I wanted Brittany back in my life.

There was no anger left in me. Just empty and need.

"San?"

She was standing in the doorway, a plate of food in hand, a glass of water in the other. She shut the door behind her, using her foot and sat on the edge of the bed. "I brought you food," she said smiling. She put the glass on the bedside table and handed me the plate. It was warm. Grilled chicken, mac and cheese, broccoli a weird assortment of slapped together food, signature Pierce family dinner.

"Thanks," I said taking the plate and sitting it in my lap. She handed me a fork and draped a napkin of my knee. I pushed the food around the plate. "I heard you guys laughing." I ate a small forkful of the broccoli, she had dusted it with Parmesan cheese, the way I liked it.

"Why didn't you join us?" She pulled a leg up and rested her chin on her knee.

I shook my head and swallowed.

"Talk to me," she said, prodding my knee with her hand playfully.

"I don't know how," I whispered. My throat felt dry and I exchanged the plate for the glass of water, taking a few sip before setting it back down beside the plate of food. I didn't feel like eating anyway.

"What do you mean?"

"It doesn't matter," I said, wringing my hands in my lap.

"Santana," she said in that tone of voice that meant I was to take her seriously. I looked up. "It matters."

I sighed and rubbed my hands up and down my thighs. "I don't know how. I feel like..." I stopped. It was all so heavy. "I feel like everything is so wrong right now and I'm wrong and you're not and I'll just rain all of this bullshit on you." My voice was quiet, barely audible.

"No," she said, voice soft, she scooted forward on the bed, crossing her legs like she had before. "Never. I always want to hear what you have to say. Always, please talk to me."

I nodded but kept my eyes down. Brittany had always had this weird way of making me feel vulnerable and that scared me. "I don't know what to do anymore. I don't know how I feel."

"Try to tell me," she asked quietly.

I glanced up, back down to my hands. "I feel like I'm just waiting to get over what happened, like it should be done with but it's not. I still feel so..._much_. Then my parents. It's all wrong. I'm all wrong."

"Hey," she said and I looked up, she was leaning forward on her knees, our faces close together. "You are not wrong, like, at all. You're so good, San. So good." She put a hesitant hand on my face.

"Yeah?"

"The best," she said, sitting back down, this time right in front of me, our knees touching. It was a comfort, she was a comfort.

"I should be angry. Everything is just... Like my mom calling and wanting me back, they wanted me gone. I should be angry at that, at them, at the way they just keep me around because they like me there, not like they like me, not like your parents..." I looked up, her face had fallen.

"Shit, Britt, no, I just mean. Your family is like this unit and mine is like...three people living in a house together," I explained. "I just want to be so mad at them but I don't have any left in me. It's all gone."

I leaned over, forehead in my hands, I felt her rest a hand on my shoulder. "You really want to be mad at them?"

I shook my head. "No," I whispered, throat tight. "No, I want to go back to them, so badly I want to go back to them and I feel stupid for that. Because they just don't understand and they don't like me and they don't like the fact that I love you and I'm afraid they'll see what he..."

I froze, my body locked up. No more talking about him. Not with Brittany. I felt like it would taint our relationship, ruin it, seep into the corners of us and poison the air.

"Oh San," she said and her voice was so gentle, so much loved wrapped into her words. I looked up.

"I'm trying but I don't know what to do," I said. I didn't have any tears left, just this horrible empty feeling, this need for Brittany to understand me and still love me.

"I love you," she said it so simply, watching my eyes with her perfectly shaded blue ones.

And I knew in that moment that she did, that she always had, even when I hadn't deserved it, maybe especially then.


	20. Chapter 20 Lifted

**AN:** Sorry it's taken so long again. I really haven't been feeling all too well lately and between that and work it's just been hard to find time to write, or time I want to sit down and write. I've mainly been curled up on my couch watching Disney movies over and over.

Anyway, I know that the story has changed dramatically in the last little bit and I realize the flow isn't that great anymore, but I'm trying. I've thrown my outline out the window. We're just going to see where the story takes us, yes? I personally think that this will work.

Also, I love this chapter and it kinda makes me love this story. Don't worry, there's no miraculous cure or defining moment where things will just be good again for Santana. I want to let you know I'm not going to cut corners because of my want to end this story and move on. It was my first fanfiction. So, yeah.

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><p><strong>Chapter 20 | Lifted<strong>

It was really weird. Like Brittany's sudden entrance into my life had woken me from a deep sleep. I felt more aware, more in the moment, not so stuck in my head. More alive. It was great to be pulled back into the world around me but at the same time it was so much harder than I had thought. I didn't have the stamina to just handle things that made me want to curl into a ball and ignore the world again. Things still felt off, I still felt off, but it was better and Brittany helped make it easier. I didn't even have to ask, she just did it.

The entire week went by like I was in a brand new world. I was more aware of my classes, aware of the kids passing notes and snickering behind the teachers back, how they would send me looks, wondering what had happened to the old Santana who wore a Cheerios uniform and could kill with words or a particularly vicious glare. They left me alone, though.

Glee club had been different, or I had been different in Glee club. When I walked in and actually made eye contact, people noticed. They noticed the subtle ways I had changed. They noticed I sat beside Brittany, sat up straighter, paid attention. They responded, giving me warm smiles, including me in conversations again.

Puck even felt comfortable enough to punch me, playfully, on the arm when I took a seat beside him.

I glanced at him, trying to look as disgusted as I could. "Fuck you, Puckerman."

From the corner of my eye I saw him smirk and heard the faint whisper of: "There's my girl."

It felt good, not to be trapped inside of myself where all the bad was just waiting for me to slip up, to let seep in and do more damage. I had spent so much time in my own head. I had spent so much time thinking I had to do everything on my own. I had spent everything I had to try and carry this weight of Mark and my parents and everything.

And Brittany had snatched it up like it was nothing.

It was different than with Ms. Pillsbury. She was a concerned adult and I appreciated that, I did. Brittany though, it was deeper than that, it was intimate because we couldn't not be intimate together. I didn't mind having her so close to me, physically, emotionally, any way, really. It was a relief and I knew in the back of my head that I was getting better and I felt like if I was changing, other things needed to change too. Especially with Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury, because I felt more and more like a burden to them every day. As the fog lifted and I realized what I was doing, asking of people, it felt like too much and I needed for things to change. I needed to find a way to let them have their lives back without me in it.

I didn't have any options, though. I didn't know what to do. Except...

The idea had been itching at the back of my mind for a while.

My mom had called, she had made an effort. Shouldn't I make one in return? I had argued with myself back and forth. They were the only family I had. But they had kicked me out. They were reaching out to me. Only because they felt guilty. And they loved me.

It was a tough decision. But I owed it to Will and Emma to make an effort, at least.

I picked up my phone. I was sitting on the edge of my bed. It had been three days since she had called me and my phone had been left on. I took it as a peace offering and a blessing and had called Brittany every night since then, on the nights I wasn't with her.

I stared at her name, listed in my recent calls.

I tapped it and held the phone to my ear.

It rang, endlessly until she picked up, voice small, timid.

"Hello?"

"Mom."

"Santana, sweetie, hi. I'm so glad you called. I miss you," she said it quickly and sounded genuinely surprised.

I swallowed. The phone call suddenly felt really big. My hands felt cold. I closed my eyes, the room was too big, I had too many thoughts. "Yeah," I replied, knowing that's not what she wanted to hear. "Yeah."

We were quiet.

"Santana, your father and I," she paused and I could almost see her wringing her hands nervously in front of her, a habit she had. "We want to see you again. We really have missed you and we know things have been rough..."

"Yeah, I was actually calling to ask if we could sit down and..." What? "Talk."

She sighed. "I would love that." She sounded honest, excited, relieved. "Your father and I would love that."

I scowled. I couldn't see that. I couldn't see him loving anything that wasn't penciled into his planner. "Right," I said, filling he silence with words. "Well, yeah, whenever you're free or whatever."

She was quiet and then I heard a slight fluttering noise, like paper rustling. "I can tomorrow. After school. I can pick you up if you like?"

"No, I have Glee rehearsal," I said quickly. I did have rehearsal and I didn't want her to pick me up, I didn't want to be alone with her. "I'd like to meet at Mr. Schue's and Ms. Pillsbury's again. I haven't asked them. So, I like..." I stopped. I hadn't thought this through. Tomorrow seemed to early. So soon. I hadn't talked to them. "I should ask them."

"Oh," she said, voice quiet. She cleared her throat. "Of course, you want to go talk to them, then call me back? I'll be here all evening, you can call whenever you find out. Or if you want to." She added the last part quickly.

I had never heard her like this. So upset, so vulnerable. She sounded fragile, like if I said the wrong thing she would break into a ton of pieces. It made me nervous. I shifted on the bed.

"Yeah, I'll talk to them and then let you know, okay?"

"Of course, sweetheart. You call me back when you know for sure."

We both paused. I didn't know how to progress in the conversation and I don't think she wanted to hang up. "Well, I'll call you."

"I love you, Santana," she said it so simply, so full of love. It was smothering.

"Yeah," I replied before hanging up.

They were both in the living room. Mr. Schue was chewing on his favorite red pen he used to grade papers and Ms. Pillsbury was reading. They looked so relaxed together, at ease just for the others company. I had never seen my parents do that.

"Hey," I said quietly, feeling like an intruder.

Will smiled at me.

"Hi," Ms. Pillsbury said, glancing up and shutting her book, thumb tucked in the pages to keep her spot. "What's up?"

"I was just," I shifted my weight. I felt nervous. I was so far gone in my own anger, my own issues that I hadn't really cared about anything, such extreme apathy, but now, now I was so much more aware and it threw me off, made me nervous when I never had been before. "I called my mom."

They exchanged a look. Mr. Schue capped his pen and set it down, turning his full attention to me. Ms. Pillsbury stuck her book mark in her book and sat up straighter.

"I want to. Well she wanted to. But, yeah, I did too." I shook my head. Be coherent. "I wanted to talk with them again. I think that would be good. I think." I hadn't meant to say I think twice. It had slipped in there on it's own.

"Well that's really good, Santana. That's great that you're reaching out. Brittany and now you're parents." Ms. Pillsbury nodded her head, thoughtfully. "When were you wanting to meet them?"

"I dunno," I shrugged. It was my honest answer. My thought process hadn't gone beyond calling them. I hadn't really thought about what to say except 'we should talk'. "She, my mom, wanted to meet tomorrow but I told her I had to talk to you guys because I wanted to meet them here again, if that's okay because you're..." Safe. They were safe. I was safe here, with them. "You're a buffer."

Ms. Pillsbury opened her mouth.

"But if that's too soon, that's fine, I just wanted to say. So you can let me know when you're free or when it's okay and I'll let her know, I just wanted to ask," I said quickly.

They exchanged a look. I saw something pass between them, something unspoken.

"Tomorrow would be perfect," Mr. Schue said, smiling his closed lip smile at me. It was genuine, the one he gave us in Glee when we had done something beyond our years or touched him. I didn't quite understand.

"So like...six o'clock?" I asked.

"Did you want to invite them to dinner?" Ms. Pillsbury asked.

I shook my head quickly. "Definitely not. Just a visit, talk some things out, I guess." I looked down. "Thanks. For like, everything."

"Of course, Santana," Ms. Pillsbury said quietly.

"Anytime," Mr. Schue added.

I nodded and left the room with an awkward head bob as my only response. Too many feelings.

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><p>I sat on my bed staring at the worn notebook. It had some small poems and random ramblings when I was having a bad day in it. There were also tiny sketches, notes from Brittany. She didn't read it because I asked her not to, but she opened to random blank pages and would leave messages, telling me she loved me, she loved my shirt, my hair looked awesome, in hopes I would find them later and smile.<p>

I did every time.

I opened to a blank page. Just lines, no doodles, no notes from Brittany. Blank.

I sighed. Did I want to write?

I tapped my pen on the page. I looked at my phone. It was almost eight. I found the name I wanted, second on my recent calls list and tapped it lightly.

"Hey you," she said, voice soft.

"Hey," I replied, my voice sounded hoarse. I cleared it. "What's up? What're you doing?"

She sighed, it sounded exasperated. "I'm _trying_ to do math homework but it doesn't really make any sense. I don't know why there are letters."

I smiled. Brittany had always struggled with Math. "Need some help?"

"You would like, be my lifesaver. Want me to come get you?" I heard shuffling on the other end of the phone. Papers moving, Brittany getting off her bed.

"Lemme ask," I said walking out of my room. They were both sitting in the living room, still. "Hey," I said slowly, phone still pressed to my ear. "Is it cool if like, Britt comes and gets me? I'm gonna help her with Math and stuff."

They exchanged a look.

"Sure," Mr. Schue said.

"Be back by nine," Ms. Pillsbury added.

I stared at her and glanced at Mr. Schue. "It's eight now..." I didn't want to push but...come on.

"Uh," Mr. Schue said looking to Ms. Pillsbury who looked back at him like she didn't understand the problem.

"It's a school night," she hissed at him, smiling at me then glancing at him.

"It's homework, she's a senior," he said shrugging.

I glanced around the room, unsure of what to do. It was awkward and they were having the conversation about me right in front of me.

"San?" It was Brittany on the phone.

"One sec, Sorry, B," I whispered quickly into the line.

"What were you thinking?" Ms. Pillsbury asked.

"Eleven?" Mr. Schue replied, shrugging. "It'd be different if they were going out but she'll be at the Pierces..."

Ms. Pillsbury sighed. "Ten-thirty."

"Thanks," I said, smiling at them.

They hesitated and returned it, looking genuinely surprised but happy, pleased. They did that when I smiled these days.

"It's cool, B, but I only have until 10:30," I said into the phone as I went back to my room. "So hurry."

"Already on my way," she said and I heard the clicking of her turn signal.

"Text me when you get here." She hung up.

I shut the door to my room. I grabbed my math notebook and my writing one. I stood for a second, thinking I threw some clothes, my phone charger and toothbrush into a small bag, one you were supposed to use to carry groceries in instead of plastic. I put the notebooks on top. I would call at ten and ask if I could sleep over. I knew they would say yes, they still felt awkward denying me things.

Plus, it had always worked in the past.

* * *

><p>Brittany threw her pencil down on the bed. "I need a break, San," she whined, lying back and throwing her arm over her face.<p>

"It's been twenty minutes," I said glancing at the clock.

"And we've only done like, six problems," she said, not moving. "Break time. Hungry?"

"Not really," I said gathering up the papers and moving them to the floor in a neat stack along with Brittany's math book.

"Me neither, I want chocolate."

I chuckled. "I thought you weren't hungry?"

She sat up and stared at me, hard, face serious. "You don't have to be hungry to eat chocolate, it's comfort food."

"Well, the dilemma is do you have any chocolate?"

She scrunched up her face, thinking hard. "Yeah, there's probably some M&M's downstairs. Wanna go on an adventure for chocolate?" She smiled at me.

"Lead the way," I said, following her down the stairs.

She spent a long time rummaging through cabinets and looking in jars that were clearly marked 'sugar' or 'flour' for chocolate. I knew she only did it to make me laugh, which it did. I was sitting on the counter, watching her move around the kitchen. She opened a cabinet by the refrigerator and took out a box.

"That's popcorn," I said plainly.

"Obviously, San," she said, rolling her eyes at me. "But you have to have something salty with something sweet otherwise it just..." She stopped, thinking hard. "It's illegal."

It was such a Brittany answer. I laughed loudly and grabbed my side. I only ever laughed, really laughed with Brittany. She was looking at me and when I caught my breath, I held her gaze, her face was soft, smiling slightly. She turned away and put the popcorn in the microwave, before returning to her original mission.

She stopped and stared at the fridge. "Hmm, I bet," she said standing on tiptoe and reaching for the bowl that sat on top of it. I hadn't really paid much attention to it before or noticed it's presence. She pulled it down and looked up at me, a victorious grin on her face. She put the bowl in my lap and slid up next to me on the counter. I looked inside. There was a bag of M&M's, snickers, skittles, other candy.

"Mom's secret stash. I always forget about it," Brittany said slowly. She pulled out a bag of candy. "See anything you want?"

I shook my head. I wasn't really in the mood to eat.

"Your loss," she hummed sliding off the counter and replacing the bowl on the top of the fridge. The microwave beeped and she pulled the hot bag from inside. She motioned with her head and I followed her back up the stairs. Her sister was in bed, her dad was at work, his schedule shifted depending on what week it was or something bizarre I couldn't really keep up with. Her mom was already in bed, too. It was just the two of us awake in the house.

We sat on her bed. I nibbled at the chocolate and watched as Brittany would eat a few M&M's and chase them with popcorn. She looked at me, grinning. "What?"

I shook my head. "Nothing."

She swallowed her bite and looked down. "How are you?"

"Fine," I shrugged grabbing three blue M&M's.

"No, San," she said and I looked up. She was giving me that Brittany look. The one of unconditional love that made my chest tighten. "How are you?"

I blinked a few times and looked down. I put the candy back in the bag and rubbed my hands on my jeans. "I'm...doing alright. I'm actually a lot better. I'm just..."

She didn't press me, she just waited until I found the words. "I called my mom today."

I felt her shift, sit up straighter, lean a little more towards me. We were sitting on her bed. "Wow, well what'd she say?"

"She was really...desperate?" I looked up at her, her eyes were wide, as if she was listening to me tell an intense story. "She just said she missed me. We're gonna talk, tomorrow."

She didn't say anything, just watched me, waiting patiently.

I could feel her watching me so I continued to look down. "It was her idea and I just...they're coming over tomorrow."

I continued. "I just want them to like me, Britt." My chest felt heavy from the words. Ever since the day I had skipped school and gotten so sick I had felt the words itching in the back of my head. "I know they love me, even after everything I know that. I want them to like me though. I want them to look at me as a person, not just their kid that they have to love and I want them to like me. Who I am." I blinked hard, I didn't want to cry. "What I am."

She moved the candy and popcorn off of the bed, setting it on the floor and crawled close to me. She pulled me into her. She didn't even say anything, just pulled me close and let me hold onto her, just because I needed something to hold. I didn't cry or shake or anything and it was the perfect comfort.

"I don't see how they couldn't," she said quietly, running her fingers gently through my hair.

"Hmm?" I said, her touch was soothing, she was warm, I was comfortable and I felt myself drifting.

"Like you. You're this awesome person, San," she whispered. "Without them you've become this awesome person."

I wanted to tell her it was because of her. She made me better. She made me nicer, likeable. Without Brittany I was angry and lonely and all things negative. With her I was better, so much better. I let go of her, pulled away, she opened her mouth to say something.

And I kissed her.

She tasted like chocolate and popcorn and it was the perfect mixture of sweet and salty. She was still for a moment before kissing me back, wrapping a hand into my hair and pulling me close to her, almost on top of her as we fell back on her bed. My hands slid down her sides and I felt her lips turn up as she resisted the urge to laugh, she was ticklish there.

She rolled slightly, using her weight to push me onto my back, she slid halfway on top of me, her leg shifting in between mine. It all hit me then. How long it had been, how alone we were, how sickeningly sweet she tasted, felt on top of me. I inhaled sharply, breaking our kiss. She didn't stop, she didn't even hesitate before moving down to my neck, her hands moved quickly, down my sides, on my stomach, just below the hem of my pants. She was everywhere at once and it was...

Too much.

"Britt," I croaked. It felt good, too good, especially when her knee moved higher, I couldn't help the way my breath caught.

"Yeah," she said breathless, her assault of kisses barely stopping.

"No, I can't," I said, moving my hands up to her shoulders. I was overwhelmed. I was moving in a thousand different directions. My body was reacting, over reacting to every touch but my mind was yelling at me to stop, please stop. She moved her leg again and I whimpered, grabbing her shoulders, hard. "Please stop. Please."

She pulled away quickly and sat up, straddling one of my legs. She looked scared, like she had done something wrong. I pulled myself into a sitting position and ran my fingers through my hair. "It's too much," I said.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"No," I looked up quickly and grabbed her hands in mine. "I'm just so everywhere, you know? I just..."

She crawled off of me and stood up, by the bed. "You ready to go home?"

Her words stung. I had never seen her like this. "I..." I didn't want to go. "Can I stay?"

She turned to look at me and her face softened. "Of course you can."

"Will you come back to me?" I hadn't meant to sound so small but she had gone away so quickly. She had been there, so close and then she was gone. It had been a shock for my body.

She didn't say anything. She crawled back onto the bed and sat beside me. She didn't look at me or touch me. I scooted my body down, to where I was lying on my side and she joined me, she reached her hand out slowly and let it rest on my cheek, slide down to me neck, rest at my shoulder before she moved closer and wrapped her hands around mine, tucking them between us, our knees pressed together.

"This is better." I closed my eyes.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

I felt my forehead scrunch. "No, you don't have to be sorry, you didn't do anything. It was my fault. I kissed you."

We were silent I felt her hands move gently over me. My face, stroking my hair. I began to fall asleep. She shifted her body when I was right on the edge of sleep and I heard her talking on a phone before she slid closer to me, pulled me into her.


	21. Chapter 21 Let Your Love Be Strong

**AN: **I was looking through my outline of this, which I use as a general guideline, but not so strictly anymore, and saw a note on the last page. It was pretty much what I eventually wanted to happen, different ideas and scenarios. At the very bottom in all capitals there was a note to myself from myself that read, "Fuck, work on this." Made me laugh.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy. Sorry it's short!

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><p><strong>Chapter 21 | Let Your Love Be Strong<strong>

I sat on the edge of the couch. I was nervous. Nervous in a new way, though. I knew we were going to argue and my dad and I were probably going to yell and my mother would cry and Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury wouldn't know what to do but...

It didn't really matter anymore. I was so done fighting.

I was so tired of wallowing in all of the grief and the sad. I couldn't do it anymore. I didn't want to. It wasn't as easy as just saying it. I had to work at it. Work at trying to reconnect with my parents. Work to keep myself together during the day, to not block out my friends in Glee, Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury, Brittany.

Especially not her.

On the days that I didn't even feel like I would be able to pull myself out of bed I would reach for my phone and see a text from her. They usually just wished me a good morning but that was so much, because she cared enough to do small things like that. People seem to always forget what small things do for people. Brittany didn't though. It's not that she thought smaller, she just saw the small things better than everyone else.

But I was doing this now, waiting for my parents with as much patience as I could muster for me, not her.

I had to keep remembering that. I had to keep remembering that I want to be better for me.

I bit at my lower lip, using my teeth to pick at the skin that was beginning to chap. I stopped myself and looked down at my hands on my knees, clutching until my knuckles turned white.

"It'll be fine," Ms. Schue whispered from his spot on the twin couch across from me.

I nodded staring at the wall. I didn't really want to talk. I didn't know what I was doing, what was going to be said when my parents did arrive, which would be any minute...like any second, really.

"We can stay with you," Ms. Pillsbury began.

"No, I think I should talk to them," I said slowly, looking down and rubbing my hands against my legs, a nervous habit I had noticed I'd picked up.

"Right," she said.

We didn't have to wait long, though. There was a knock on the door.

My body seized up. Ms. Pillsbury and Mr. Schue stood up at the same time. The room was full of awkward tension and I resisted the urge to run and hide. Mr. Schue disappeared to answer the door.

I heard talking by the door, two voices. They were both here. I was a little surprised, I had been having this awful feeling about my dad, about how he was handling the whole situation. Then they were there and I was standing up on unsteady legs, looking at them like I hadn't seen them in years. My mom had a bag in her hands, another peace offering.

"Well, we'll be..." Mr. Schue said, looking between us.

"In the kitchen," Ms. Pillsbury said, grabbing his hand and gently leading him away.

I sighed. I wasn't relieved, but the room felt less crowded. We stood awkwardly for a moment before I motioned for them to take a seat. My father sat down, eying the place like he had the last time, my mother sat on the edge of her seat. She looked older, her hair wasn't as neat, her clothing looked a little wrinkled, her eyes looked glossy, as if she was about to burst into tears.

He looked exactly the same.

And that pissed me off.

I exhaled abruptly.

"So," I said and cleared my throat.

"We miss you," she interjected quickly. "I brought you some clothes, in case you needed more and some of your things from home you might want."

I could tell she was trying. She put the bag on the table between us, eyes hopeful. Something tugged at my heart. I grabbed the bag and set it off the table, beside me. I didn't look into it, not yet.

"I...miss you, too," I said, speaking honestly. I did miss them. They were my parents, my only parents. I couldn't ever change that or do anything about it. Things had happened so fast, too. Everyone had acted on impulse. No one had taken two seconds to think about what everything actually meant. We had never done that as a family, we just did what we thought we were supposed to do as a unit.

I shook my head, I needed to be in this moment, with them.

"We want you to come home," she said quickly, her voice sounded different than it usually did. It wavered. It was desperate, like on the phone. "We want to work this out, we're a family, Santana. You're our daughter and we love you. We know what happened so...rash, so silly."

I stopped and raised my eyebrows. It was as if she had read my thoughts.

"I just want us to be together again," she finished quietly.

I looked down, staring at the rug. I didn't know what to say. It wasn't that simple. They couldn't just bring me clothes and say nice words and expect everything to go away. They had hurt me. I looked up.

He was sitting with his arms on the back of the couch, legs crossed, as if he owned the house, as if he was welcome here, free to be as comfortable as he wanted. It made my jaw clench.

"What about you?" I directed the question at him.

"Hmm?" He said lazily, eyes drifting over to me, as if he just realized I was here.

"What about you?" I repeated.

"Santana," my mother began to say.

"No, I want to know what he has to say," I said. My voice was harsh and I felt that familiar anger boiling in me. The anger I thought Brittany had scared away with her gentle smiles and warm touches.

He shook his head and sighed. "You can come home whenever you want, Santana." He sounded bored, as if he was being forced here, as if this was something he had already explained a million times.

"Right," I said, voice low.

He sensed it, the anger. "I don't see why we're still making a spectacle of our family."

There it was.

"What?" I asked, head tilting slightly.

"Joseph," my mother said, her own voice lowered, she tilted her body towards him. It was a warning.

"No, Anita, she's just being dramatic, vying for attention with her... Well, we all know why this started to begin with. Santana has always had a flare for the dramatics," he said rolling his eyes over to her.

"Are you fucking with me?" I said, the anger bubbling up to my throat.

"Here we go," he said, sitting up straighter, as if preparing to fight.

"Santana, don't talk to your father like that," she said to me gently.

I opened my mouth to snap at her. Tell her she had no right to tell me what to do, she lost that when she chose him over me. Chose the sham of a life we had been living over me.

"Please?"

She was begging and I had never seen my mother beg. I stopped.

She sighed. "Joseph, please. Santana is trying," she said gently.

"She isn't trying. She's still disappearing. She's still spending an unhealthy amount of time with Brittany."

The anger reached a fever pitch when he threw her name into the conversation. He wasn't allowed to talk about her. Ever. She was mine. She was my one untainted thing.

I opened my mouth and my mother held up her hand again. I huffed in frustration but bit my tongue to stop my reply. She was trying. I needed to stay clam, keep a level head.

"She is trying, her grades are better, I've been speaking with her teachers..."

I lost track of what she was saying. She had been watching me, following my progress, she switched my phone on. I felt a surge of affection for her in that moment. I wanted to hug her. No, I wanted her to hug me and let the nightmare that had been the last few months disappear.

"Thanksgiving is coming up..." she was saying.

"I won't have my daughter making a mess of Thanksgiving," he said, voice stern. He wasn't angry and that made it worse. He was stating a fact, as if I didn't have any other setting besides being a mess or causing a scene.

He couldn't just do this. "Get out," I said quietly.

"What?"

I looked up, I looked at my mom, her eyes were filled with tears.

I looked to my father. Smug. "Get out," I said again, voice firm.

"You don't get to tell me what to do, little girl," he said, leaning closer over the coffee table separating us.

And in that moment he was everything I hated in the world. He was Mark. He was the feeling of hopelessness. He was my fear of men. Of intimacy. He was the thing that went bump in the night. He was everything that was trying to pull me down. I looked over his face.

And I knew, in some oddly crystallizing moment that I was okay.

That this, that everything, was doable.

I stood up, too quickly. My anger had been replaced with adrenalin, pulsing through me, looking for fight or flight, anything. I looked down, then up at him. "I wish you understood things better. I feel sorry for you."

He scoffed. "You feel sorry for me? Santana, you're so confused."

I didn't say anything. I grabbed the bag and turned to my mom. "Thank you. I'll call you, okay?"

She looked like I had ripped out her heart and stepped on it.

"I love you," I said, more for her benefit than mine. She looked so relieved that it made me want to cry. I turned towards my room and began to walk away.

"You don't know anything, little girl," he said. I could hear his voice rising as he got to his feet. "You don't know anything about the world."

I didn't turn around. I heard Will and Emma move into the living room.

I tuned everything out and disappeared into my room. I set the bag by the bed and sat on the edge. I listened to the distant conversation and soon the apartment went quiet. I heard a small knock on my door.

"I'm fine," I said.

"Can I come in?" It was Ms. Pillsbury.

"I promise I'm fine," I said, voice wavering slightly. I didn't want her here now. I didn't want to see anyone. I just wanted to sit and think. Try to process everything.

I heard her footsteps retreat.

I coughed, trying to clear the tears from my throat. I felt my face pulling down into a frown. I felt the tears prickling at my eyes. I shook my head and my hands, trying to get myself under control. I pulled the bag onto the bed and dumped it out.

There was an assortment of clothes, some of my make up, a few pairs of shoes and then, tucked underneath one of my favorite sweaters was a framed picture. It was of me and Brittany, dressed in our finest Cheerios uniform, arms slung around each other like it was the easiest thing in the world.

She had packed this especially for me.

It didn't shock me when I felt the tears sliding down my cheek. But somehow it was okay.

It was all okay.

* * *

><p>"Hey you," she said softly.<p>

"Hey," I said, sniffling slightly.

"How'd it go?" Her tone shifted instantly into gentle, concerned. She knew me so well.

"My mom misses me. Like really misses me," I said.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I miss her, too. But my dad..." I trailed off. The words were right there but I couldn't quite grab them. I couldn't really find what I wanted to say, how I wanted to say it. I just knew they were there. She gave me all the time I needed and then some. "He's exactly the same."

"I'm sorry, San," she said softly, it was sincere.

"I don't know what to do, Britt," I said, speaking openly, honest. "I can't go back to them, I could with my mom, but not with him still so angry at...everything. She wanted me home for Thanksgiving and Will and Emma are going to his family..."

I trailed off. I was so lost. I had felt like maybe, just maybe things were coming together slowly and now here I was stuck again.

"Well, we only have two days next week," Brittany said slowly, I could hear her piecing thoughts together.

"Yeah?" I said quietly.

She was silent for a few more seconds. "Hold up," she said. I heard shuffling and a few thumps before silence. I sat on my bed, legs crossed, staring at the blankets. What was she doing? It took a few minutes and I was just about to hang up, annoyed at having been put on hold for so long when she finally picked up the phone.

"You there?"

"Yes," I said.

"Okay, come stay with me, my family, through the break."

I stopped, eyebrows scrunched together. "What?"

"Yeah, I totally asked, they're fine with it. My parents love you," she said. "They got this."

"Britt, I can't just..." It was too much.

"Please? I'll feel better if you're here with me."

How could I refuse that?

* * *

><p>Before I knew it I was packing my clothes in one of Will's duffel bags and lugging it to school with me. I stored it in the choir room during the school day and spent as much time as I could with Brittany, at her side, talking with her, letting her tell me what the Pierces planned to do for Thanksgiving. They were staying in Lima this year, flying out to see family for Christmas.<p>

I felt light all day. I was getting to spend time with Brittany, I was out of Will and Emma's hair and I was enjoying school again. The work was even comforting, something to concentrate my mind on, keep me occupied when I didn't have Brittany around me as a source of entertainment.

Things were going right.

I was feeling less anguish every day.

Still, something was nagging at me, in the back of my mind. Like I was forgetting to run a really important errand.


	22. Chapter 22 Thanksgiving

**AN:** So, kids, we're coming to a close, I think. I know I said I threw out my outline and I did, the old one, but last night I started writing out what I wanted to happen for this chapter and the ideas kept coming, so I went with it. We're out lined to the end. I have to say I'm pleased.

I'm also so, so thankful for the reviews. We're almost at one hundred. Literally, as I'm typing this authors note we're at 99. That's amazing. Like, for real. Those of you who alert/favorite/review are just the best. It totally makes my day when I refresh my inbox on my phone and see the emails I've gotten from .

I would like to say that I'm horrible and I've forgotten if I ever named Brittany's sister. So, if you happen to remember the name and the random generic name I throw out is wrong, don't hate me. I tried to find it in the other chapters but couldn't. Or, I'm being crazy and I never named her to begin with. Anyway, try to ignore that one (possible) mistake.

This one's a long one.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 22 | Thanksgiving<strong>

It was so weird. I would be living with them for the week. I wasn't really sure how to respond. The Pierces were my second family. They had been a presence in my life since childhood. How could I not be comfortable? But at the same time they knew. They knew I was in love with their daughter and my parents had reacted so badly. How could they just sit at the dinner table and laugh and joke with us like it was nothing?

Like it was okay.

Because maybe it was.

The voice in my head was small, it sounded hoarse, from disuse. But it was right. Maybe it was okay. Maybe it was even okay to let myself think that. Maybe it was okay to think good things again. Not just about Brittany, about everything. Maybe even about myself.

"Need help?" Brittany asked her mother when we had all finished dinner.

"No, you and Santana go get settled in." She smiled at me, it was warm. I felt like she was trying to welcome me. I was thankful for that.

"I'll help," Brittany's dad said standing and stretching. "You too, munchkin," he said bending and tickling at Brittany's sister's side. She burst into a fit of giggles and tried to fight off his hands.

"Okay, we'll be upstairs," Brittany said standing.

I stood too and just stared down at the table. Brittany nudged at me gently with her hip, she had moved to stand beside me. "Thanks for dinner," I mumbled towards Mrs. Pierce, still feeling awkward. "And you know, everything else."

"Well of course, Santana. That's what family does." It was said so plainly, the way Brittany would sometimes say the most amazing things in the simplest ways that I felt stunned. She grabbed dishes from the table and disappeared into the kitchen.

Brittany grabbed my hand pulled me along. "Come on, Sanny," she said quietly. When we were in her room she shut the door behind her and I sat on the bed, looking up at her. "I told you they loved you."

I nodded. She crossed the room slowly and set her arms on my shoulders. I leaned my head against her stomach and held onto her side. "That was way tougher than it should have been and not nearly as bad as I thought," I whispered.

"What do you mean?" She asked quietly. She was stroking my hair absentmindedly, it was so comforting, so familiar.

"It's just hard to act so...normal." I frowned at my words. "What did you tell them?"

She didn't stop her movements, but I felt her body tense. "They know about your parents. They know you've been living with Will and Emma. They know you're a lesbian and that I love you." The words made me flinch and she bent her body slightly, pulling her arms tightly around me, hugging me close. "They just wanna help."

I nodded into her. I held on tightly.

"I didn't tell them about Mark," she said quietly after a few minutes.

I flinched again. "Don't say his name, okay?"

"Santana you can't be afraid of him forever," she said softly, stroking my hair again, releasing her grip on me slightly.

"I'm not," I said. "I promise I'm not." My voice shook though. "But I can't have you mix with him." It didn't make any sense but she was so much good and he was everything that was bad. They were like colors that didn't match.

"Promise?" She asked, pulling away slightly. I could tell she wanted me to look at her. She was standing between my legs, hands resting on my shoulders and I looked up, finding her blue eyes and locking them with mine.

"Mark is something that I still need to figure out. I promise I'm trying, but I can't have you tainted by him." She continued to stare at me, eyes soft, but unrelenting as they took in me, looked deep into me, to the places only Brittany knew how to get to.

I clasped one of her hands on my shoulder and brought it down to my lap. I linked out pinkies together. "Promise," I said, looking back up at her.

She smiled and pushed me onto my back, laughing.

I couldn't help but laugh, too.

* * *

><p>And before I knew what was happening we were on Thanksgiving break, getting home after school on Tuesday. We had Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. off It was nice to be home from school without it meaning I was ridiculously ill or just that upset. It was a real vacation, from everything that was going on. I had this week with the Pierces to not have to worry about anything except being with Brittany. We'd get to be alone while her parents were at work tomorrow. All day.<p>

Except for her sister, of course, who kept us constantly busy. She made us play games like Uno and Trouble Jenga and Connect Four, which we had to take turns to play. It was exhausting. When she didn't want to play board games she had us chasing her through the house.

The house phone rang. Brittany sighed and got up to answer. I pushed down the bubble on the board game. Round three of Trouble. Four. I looked at Brittany who was talking on the phone, it was her turn. I pushed the bubble again. Six. I smiled, moving one of Brittany's pieces out of start.

"You can't go twice," Lydia said indignantly.

"I went for Britt," I said, pointing to the yellow piece I had just moved.

"Oh," she said, frowning.

"You're just angry because you still have all of your pieces in start," I said, smirking at her. She stuck her tongue out at me when I pushed the bubble again. It popped, the dice rolled. Six. I smiled, moving Brittany's piece forward six spaces.

Lydia huffed.

I pushed the bubble again. Pop. Dice roll. Five. I moved Brittany five. "Your turn, kid."

She grimaced at me and pushed the bubble. Three. I couldn't help but laugh.

Brittany returned.

"Who was that?" I pushed on the bubble for my turn. A five. I moved my sole piece five spaces and frowned, my pawn was sitting right where Lydia's piece would leave start if she got a six, bumping me back to having zero pieces on the board.

"That was mom. Apparently she's staying late today so she doesn't have to go back on Friday. Which means we're on dinner patrol," Brittany said sitting at the table. She let her head fall onto the wood and sighed. I smiled at her and let my hand move up to rest on her back, patting her gently.

Lydia pushed the bubble and squealed triumphantly. Six. I sighed, genuinely feeling sad that she had sent my only piece on the board back to start.

"Your turn, Britty," Lydia sing-songed after moving her piece forward three spaces.

Brittany rested her chin on the table, looking at the board. "Do I have this many pieces out?"

"San went for you," Lydia said rolling her eyes in my direction. "She got two sixes and a five."

Brittany sat up and looked at me, eyes sparkling. "Well aren't you the best," she said.

"Apparently not, even Lydia is beating me now."

"Hey," she said indignantly. I stuck my tongue out at her and she returned the gesture.

Brittany pressed the bubble, still looking at me. "You got another six, B," I said, looking at the number. Lydia huffed again.

I opened my mouth to tell her to chill when Brittany leaned forward and kissed me. It caught me off guard and I adjusted my mouth quickly, to fit my lips to hers but then she was pulling away, cheeks red. She moved her yellow piece forward and pushed the bubble again.

"Ew," Lydia said.

I snapped my head up to look at her. "What?" There was an edge to my voice I hadn't meant to put there and I felt Brittany's hand on my leg instantly.

Lydia didn't seem to notice. She rolled her eyes. "Kissing is gross."

"Yeah?" I said and felt the edge fade away as small smile formed on my face.

"Yeah. And kissing boys is grosser."

I laughed out loud. "Tell me about it."

I saw Brittany suppressing giggles. I pushed the bubble down.

* * *

><p>Lydia refused to eat anything that wasn't chicken nuggets and tater tots. With ranch dressing to dip her chicken nuggets in. Chicken nuggets she thought should be from McDonalds or in the shape of dinosaurs like the ones she knew mommy hid in the back of the fridge.<p>

Oh yeah, and an ice cream sandwich for an appetizer.

It seemed like for an eight year old she was a handful.

I mean, I didn't ever remembering being that intense or busy or loud when I was her age. Or Brittany. Actually, Brittany was a really quiet kid. I always did the talking when we had been around people. Brittany complied though, saying it was a special night. She cooked dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets and tater tots in the oven, but wouldn't give into the ice cream sandwich until after Lydia had eaten actual food.

Generally Brittany was against pawning Lydia off on the TV, but after the hours of games and running and cooking, she set up the big screen in the living room with The Little Mermaid and dragged me up stairs.

"That kid," I said, flopping down on her bed. "What a handful."

"She's not usually this crazy," Brittany said, flopping down beside me. "I think she's just happy you're here, you've been gone a while. Plus, tomorrow is Thanksgiving."

I nodded but felt my face fall slightly. Tomorrow was Thanksgiving.

I felt her shift beside me. She was lying on her side, using her arm to hold her head up. She laid a hand on my stomach, fingers splayed out. I rested a hand on hers out of instinct. "Tell me."

I sighed. What was it? Something was itching in the back of my head. Like I was forgetting to do something. Like I was needed elsewhere. I pulled my phone out of my pocket with my free hand. "I want to go to my house for Thanksgiving."

Her hand tensed on my stomach, nails digging slightly into the fabric of my shirt when her hand clenched. "Oh," was all she said.

"I know it doesn't make any sense," I began.

"No, it does." She nodded her head.

I turned on my side and faced her, using my arm as a pillow. She readjusted until she was lying the exact same way. "I want to be here with you. I really do. I'm so grateful but I just..."

"I know," she said. I closed my eyes tight and felt her fingers brushing against my face. "I know."

"They're my only family and my mom is trying so hard," I said. I felt like I had to justify it, explain everything.

"I know," she repeated.

"I have to try, for her," I said opening my eyes.

She didn't say anything. She didn't have to. We stayed silent for a few moments. I let my eyes close. I was tired. But I needed to call my mom. Ask her if it was alright.

"I can come with you," she said.

My eyes snapped open. "No way," I said quickly.

She blinked a few times and opened her mouth.

"My dad is going to tear me apart. I won't let him do the same to you. I can't. I'll just, I'll just explode with it all, Britt," I said quickly. "I can't."

She nodded and smiled at me. "That's alright. I'll be here, waiting."

She had always been waiting. For everything. She had always been whatever I needed, whenever, without asking anything from me, without saying a word. "Brittany," I said quietly. She was just Brittany. Which was everything.

I moved closer to her. She smelled amazing. She always had. I leaned close to her, bumping my nose lightly against hers. She smiled at me and I pressed my lips so lightly against hers, just to feel the contact. She let me but when I moved closer to her she pulled away and sat up.

I felt shocked, rejected and sat up slowly.

"I don't think we should do that," she said slowly, looking down at the blanket.

I didn't understand. "What?"

"Don't you remember? The other day."

I stared at her, head tilting slightly with the effort to remember.

"You asked me to stop," she said quietly.

And it hit me. The way she had moved on top of me and it hate felt wonderful and terrifying and had just been too much too fast. I was silent, thoughtful. It was still too much. It felt right because I needed her, I needed to feel close to her. The idea was good.

But the execution, the feeling, the actual act. The more I thought about it, how raw I would be, how open I would need to be, because I couldn't be any other way with her...it terrified me. I nodded.

"I'm gonna go take a shower, you call your mom," she said quietly. I watched her grab some clothes from her dresser and disappear down the hall.

I sat still for a while. I clutched the phone in my hand before unlocking it and scrolling through my recent calls. There was her name. I tapped it.

She answered on the second ring.

"Santana?"

"Hey," I said quietly.

"Hi, sweetie, do you need anything?"

"Well," I said. My throat clenched. I didn't know how to do this. How do you ask your mom if it's okay if you spend Thanksgiving with your own family? "I just...I wanted..."

"Yes?" She said gently.

"I wanted to know if it was okay if I came home for Thanksgiving."

The line was silent. I thought maybe I had made a mistake. Assumed too much. I opened my mouth to backtrack when she spoke.

"Oh Santana, that would...wonderful." Her voice was unsteady.

I felt more confident, though. "Well, great. I'll see you tomorrow. Will like, noon be okay?" I knew dinner was served at one sharp. Always had been."

I heard her hesitation. "Yes, that's perfect. I can't wait to see you."

"Yeah," I said. "I'll see you then."

"I love you, Santana," she said gently.

"Yeah," I replied. I hung up, letting myself fall back on the bed.

* * *

><p>Brittany had dropped me off. I told her to go on, she wanted to wait and make sure things were okay but I just couldn't handle the thought of them seeing her and saying something. She understood and left. She had her own family to be with anyway. I felt bad about that. About how the Pierces had opened their home to me and here I was at my family's. I talked to them, but they had given me that same understanding look that Brittany had given me. Like they understood something that I didn't.<p>

I inhaled deeply, bracing myself for what was about to come. I was really surprised at how calm I had been for the last few days. I assumed it was because I was with Brittany, at her house, in her presence.

I knocked on the door. I heard movement inside, feet shuffling, noise from the direction I knew was the kitchen. The door opened and my mother was standing there. I opened my mouth to speak but she pulled me into a hug, wrapping me up in her completely.

I let her.

And then I hugged her back. She smelled like mom and home and good memories and food. It was almost exactly what I had wanted and needed and hadn't expected to get.

She pulled away after what felt like only seconds and held me at arms length. "I'm so glad you're here," she said. Her eyes were watering and I blinked, feeling warmth tickling at my own vision.

"Yeah, me too," I said looking around the house. It looked exactly the same. I don't know why I had thought it would look different.

"Well come on, come help me. Your grandparents are here." She grabbed my hand and led me to the kitchen. I felt frozen. I didn't know which set she meant. My mothers parents were the best, the ones that spoiled me, knew more Spanish than English and felt that middle class America was a great place to rest. My fathers parents were scarier than her was and much more severe. They knew English better than Spanish and had both been doctors.

"Oh," I said, feeling my chest tighten.

She looked back at me and smiled. "The good ones."

"Oh," I said, relaxing immediately.

When we walked into the kitchen I was engulfed with hugs and squeals of delight and kisses and so much affection that I was overwhelmed. It was too much and I had to move quickly to wipe the tears from my eyes. My grandmother noticed, though. I knew she did.

We spent an hour finish everything, setting the table. Talking in Spanish and English about how life was in Florida (they had moved when they both had retired). I dodged all of their questions about me and then we were sitting at the table.

But when we sat down, he was there. I had almost forgotten. He walked into the room. "Sorry about that, I had to finish up some paper work for the office that I forgot about."

A billion thoughts went through my head. He never forgot office work. Ever. It was his number one priority. He was talking so casually, like everything in the world was peachy. He sounded normal. He stopped abruptly when he saw me.

The room froze.

"Why don't we sit?" My mother said. I sat down across from my grandmother, she smiled at me and I tried to return it, but I couldn't find it in me to even fake it.

The dinner started quietly and then my mother started talking, my grandparents started complimenting the food, made funny remarks and I laughed. The entire time he kept his jaw shut tight and I kept my head down.

"Santana, you're barely touching your food." I looked up, my Abuela, as I had called her my entire life, was staring at me. "You're thin as it is. Eat. The food is good." Her accent was so comforting. "Joseph? What are you feeding this girl?"

I froze. My mother froze.

My father set his fork down, removed his napkin from his lap and stood up.

"Joseph," my mother said, her voice pleading.

He began to leave.

And I was on fire. It was boiling inside of me. I was so sick of him. This was a different anger than before. This was some type of righteous fury. He had no right to be offended. He had kicked me out. "You don't get to just walk away," I said loudly, voice firm.

He stopped for a second but kept walking towards his study.

I stood up and threw my napkin on my barely touched plate.

"Santana," my mother said, voice shakier than before.

"No, he has to hear this."

She let me go. I walked quickly, feet pounding hard on the floor as if it had done me wrong. I pushed open the door to his study, he was sitting at his desk, staring at papers. The door bounced off the wall.

"Always dramatic," he said without looking up.

"Look at me," I said, it sounded like a growl.

He looked up and cocked an eyebrow at me. "What's your problem?" I asked.

"I kicked you out of my house and your mother invited you back without consulting me." He said it as if he was reading facts from a textbook.

"No, what's your problem with me?"

He opened his mouth and stopped, shutting it. He shook his head.

"You know I didn't mean to be this," I said, taking a deep shaking breath, trying to get myself under control. I was shaking from head to foot, the adrenalin, the anger, all of the feelings of being home again. "I didn't wake up one day and think, I'll be a lesbian to piss off my father." He jerked his head up and narrowed his eyes at me. "I didn't mean to fall in love with her."

I stopped and looked down trying to control myself, it wasn't working. "I don't have to prove anything to you. But you need to know you hurt me. _You_ hurt _me._ I didn't do anything to you. I make good grades, I went to school, I did Cheerios and Glee and I was going to go to an amazing college. I did everything I was supposed to do. Everything I thought I was supposed to do." He watched me closely now, as if I really was a random stranger yelling at me.

"But you hurt me. After everything I did, because I thought that's what you wanted from me you _hurt_ me. You threw me out. And I'm trying and you don't get it. You don't get anything. And I guess I take after you because I don't get it either. Because after all of this I still came here today because I still love you because you're my dad." I stopped, the sobs bubbling in my throat, choking me, making my words shake. "E-even though you don't...love me."

I wrapped my arms around my stomach, trying to calm myself. "Because I love her."

And I felt it all coming out. And I couldn't stop it. "I was so lost without you all. Without her. I thought I had lost my home and my family and then her. I realized that what we were doing was just living this lie. Like we just did what we saw people on TV and in pictures do but we weren't really living. Like we were a dollhouse... And I was so lost." I paused and tried to breath normally, tried to calm myself. "And I was stupid and I got hurt. He hurt me and..."

I stopped. Eyes wide.

He had let me yell and cry but he stopped then and shifted.

I shook my head. "I have to go." I had almost let it slip. I had almost said something about him. I turned to leave and I heard him stand up from his chair.

I ran. I ran through the hall, the dining room, the kitchen. I ignored the people calling out after me. I felt my heard pounding through my entire body, it was all I could focus on. I threw open the door and ran. I ran as quickly as I could, as far as I could, until I was out of breath and collapsed on the side walk, breathing hard.

I checked my phone. A quarter after two.

I sat on the side walk, head in my hands.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." It had slipped out. The words had slipped out. What did he know now? What would he assume? "Fuck."

I gripped the phone tightly. My hands working and dialing the number I knew so well.

I was terrified he know. But I was more terrified because I wanted him to know. I wanted them to know what had happened to me, but I didn't know why.


	23. Chapter 23 Letting Go

**AN: **So, we finally hit a hundred reviews. That's pretty awesome! Thanks for taking the time to write a few words, it's great to see what you have to say. I know I had a brief period where I didn't like this story at all, but as this fic comes to a close I can't help but feel like I'm really going to miss it. Or maybe I'll just be missing all of you who have been following it. Probably that.

I'd like to give a small shot out to WakingUpInWonderland for being the 100th reviewer! Thanks. Thanks to all of you. Especially those of you who come back for each chapter.

Oh well, I'm working on my newest story in between writing for Miles and Fighting for Nothing. I have a good feeling about it and my beta seems to think it's a good one, so, here's hoping. It is Brittana, of course, what else could it be?

Anyway, enjoy.

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><p><strong>Chapter 23 | Letting Go<strong>

Brittany had picked me up on the sidewalk. Her family had already eaten and the leftovers were packed away in the fridge, the dishes washed. They always had their shit together, though. Brittany sat me on a stool in the kitchen and fixed me a plate of food. All I ended up doing was pushing it around my plate while Brittany sat with me, holding my hand and waiting until I was ready to tell her what had happened.

I never really could find it to tell her what happened. Just that it had gone badly. I couldn't tell her that I let it slip. She would want to know why, would want me to talk about it. I didn't want to talk to her about Mark.

That had been three days ago.

Now I was sitting on her bed, legs crossed staring at my notebook while Brittany was at her desk, mindlessly surfing the internet. I felt like writing. I felt that heaviness weighing on me. Being at the Pierces had made me feel so different, so light. Now I had to go back to Will and Emma's. Now I had to go back to school and back to everything. Now I had Mark hovering over me again.

I was ignoring all of my mothers phone calls.

I felt myself falling again.

* * *

><p><em>Monday<em>

Going back to school felt like having a hangover. The noise was too much, too many colors danced through the hallways and Glee club made me want to scream. Too many people taking up too much space and air and I sat in the back of the class and tried my best not to scream at everyone to stop moving so quickly. To get over who got solos or why Finn and Rachel were arguing this week.

Brittany stuck by me loyally, but I was finding it hard to be around her again. Her presence was too strong. I didn't know how to handle it, handle her.

I had let it slip about Mark. Not completely, but I had said something, too much. The memory had faded with the anger and now I just felt sick. Because I realized he wasn't just something I could let go. He was going to be a part of me forever. I had known that. But now it was real. I wasn't sure what to do with the feelings he left on me.

I was still afraid to let Brittany touch me.

And Christmas was approaching.

* * *

><p><em>Tuesday<em>

"Santana?"

"Yeah?" I said, looking up from the notebook I had been scribbling in furiously, letting the words tumble out of me and onto the page. It always helped, especially when I was feeling too much. Just free flowing stream of consciousness. That was all my notebook had turned into anymore. Some of it didn't make any sense and other parts seemed like poetry.

It was Ms. Pillsbury, standing in the doorway of the bedroom I was using. "The doctor called."

"Okay," I said. Then it hit me. Test results. "Oh." I felt something in my stomach twist. "Do I have to go in?"

"Yes," she said, nodding her head once.

"Okay." Why? Why would they need me to go in? Why couldn't they just tell me over the phone? "Why can't they just tell me over the phone?"

I felt nervous. Really nervous. What if I did have something? My mind immediately went to Brittany. "What's the number?" I pulled out my cell phone, shutting my notebook and turning it face down on the desk.

"Santana," she said but I held up a hand and walked out of the room, searching for the phone book.

/

After forty-five minutes of badly I was able to get the doctor on the phone. And after another few minutes of talking I convinced her to tell me what the test results said.

Apparently, I was clean. I was fine. I was in good health.

I hung up after hearing that. I was pissed that they had wanted to call me in. Pissed that the only appointment free would have been a week later. I was so mad that they were going to let me walk around with that hanging above my head when they could have just said, "You're good." and let that be that.

But there it was.

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><p><em>Wednesday<em>

"Hey," she said coming up behind me.

"Hey," I mumbled shutting my locker and turning to her.

"Wanna come over? Everyone misses you. Especially Lydia," she said smiling at me in that Brittany way.

I looked down. I didn't want to see everyone. I didn't want to see anyone. I wanted to make it through school so I could go home and go to bed. I was tired. So tired. I was falling back into that dark part of me. The part that couldn't seem to figure out what to do with Mark.

"Santana, what's wrong?" She asked, face scrunching in an adorable way that made me feel guilty.

"I just don't want to," I said, voice snapping at her. I didn't mean to, but I felt scared to get close to her again. I wasn't ready. I knew what I was doing, I could feel myself curling in again. Hiding away from everything because I didn't know how to deal with what was going on.

I didn't want to do this again. I didn't want that weight on me again.

"No," she said, grabbing my arm and pulling me away from the lockers.

"What?" I asked, instinctively pulling away from her pull. She grabbed me with both hands and steered me into an empty classroom, shutting the door behind her.

"No, we're not doing that anymore," she said, voice firm.

"Doing what? You're the one that's kidnapping me," I said glaring at her hard, crossing my arms tight across my chest.

"No," she said again. "You're not just gonna shut me out anymore. You're gonna talk to me. Because it helps. Talking about things makes things better. You know that, Santana. You _know._" And I saw the pleading in her eyes. The way she looked hurt and concerned all at once.

I shook my head. I didn't want to do this. I didn't want to talk about it. But I did. I did so badly. I wanted to get it out but I couldn't. I didn't know how to. Why was this so hard?

"Why are you so angry now?" She asked.

"I'm not," I snapped back.

She scoffed and it was so unlike Brittany that my eyes widened and my hands loosened their grip on my shirt.

"I'm not," I repeated.

"Are you mad at me?" Her face fell slightly.

"No!" I said, voice loud, almost a yell. I couldn't explain it. But I didn't want her to think this was her fault. It wasn't, she was making this easier. It was my fault.

"Who are you mad at? Your dad?"

"Would you stop Brittany," I began but she talked over me.

"Your mom? Mark? Who are you mad at?"

"Just stop it," I yelled at her, taking a step back.

"Who are you mad at?"

It was too much, her yelling. The words hit me hard like bullets, these things she just knew about me and could vocalize so easily when it felt like I was trying to vomit barbed wire whenever I talked about them. "Me," I yelled at her. "It's me."

She stopped and her face softened to pity and love. "San...," she said quietly moving forward.

I took a step back and held up a hand, keeping one crossed against my body. "Just stop, okay. I'm mad at me."

"I don't think so." She asked quietly.

"What?"

"I don't think you're mad at you," she said again, voice louder, more confident. She shrugged.

I scowled at her so hard my face hurt. "You don't know."

"Maybe not, but I think that's not it." She took a tentative step forward and I didn't retreat. "I think that you're just hurt. I think that maybe you're afraid, Santana."

I shook my head and she pulled me close to her body. She was warm and strong and Brittany. Brittany. Brittany. Brittany.

/

There was a knock on the apartment door. I was in the living room watching TV. "I'll get it," I called through the apartment pulling myself from the couch. I looked through the peephole and stopped, confused.

"Brittany?" She was standing in the doorway, smiling at me.

"Hey San," she said, like nothing was different. But that was the best part about Brittany. She made me feel like everything could be normal. That I could be normal.

She walked into the apartment, brushing past me and still smiling. She did a twirl in the entry way. "Guess what." She waggled her eyebrows at me.

I tilted my head at her. "What?" It didn't matter why she was here. She was here and even though there was tension, there had been earlier in the day, in the classroom, having her here made me feel okay. Made me feel good.

"I talked to my parents," she said, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet.

"Okay," I said slowly, shutting the door and moving towards the living room. She followed, making herself at home.

"They agree with me." She nodded once, it was firm, serious. Important.

"That's great, Britt Britt," I said smiling at her. I had no idea what she was talking about, though. "What did they agree with you on?"

"About you." Her smile turned soft.

My insides froze. "Yeah?" I gulped, couldn't help it. "What did...did you uh, talk with them about?"

"You," she said moving forward to pull me into a Brittany hug.

It took me a moment before I could reciprocate. "Right," I said, still not following.

Brittany pulled away and held me at arms length. "You," she said tapping me on the nose. "Are coming to live with me for a while."

What?

"What?" I asked, stunned. I thought maybe I hadn't heard right.

"Yeah, they think it'd be okay. Better, like great since you pretty much live with us during the summer anyway. They love you, Sanny," she said grabbing one of my hands in her own and swinging our arms.

"Britt, I can't just..." They were just going to take me in like it was nothing? Like I was... It was just so much at once.

"Santana, who was it?" Will asked coming into the living room. "Oh, Brittany. Hi." He said, stopping. "What's going on?"

I guess he was talking about the look on my face because I knew my mouth was slightly open, lines deep in my forehead as I tried to think about what this meant for me. For Will and Emma. For the Pierces. For Brittany. It was an enormous gesture. And they knew. They knew I was a lesbian. They wanted to take me in.

I thought about my father on Thanksgiving day and how my mother didn't chase after me when I left.

"Britt says I can live with her," I said, looking up at him.

* * *

><p><em>Thursday<em>

It had been really awkward, sitting down with Will and Emma and having Brittany tell them about what her parents had said. It was almost unbelievable when they called to make sure it really was okay. They had spent a long time talking on the phone with the Pierces. I had sat on the couch, letting Brittany hold my hand and whisper things to me. That I was doing great and she was so excited and Lydia couldn't wait.

And that she loved me.

That was a big one.

It had been awkward when the question of When? Came into the conversation. Because...when? Brittany said it was whenever I was ready. That made it up to me. I didn't want to leave too soon and seem ungrateful to Will and Emma. They had been all I had, they had been there during the darkest times. They had supported me in ways that I still couldn't really fathom. Because they had done it without obligation.

Leaving them now felt wrong. But right at the same time.

Because what could I give them? It wasn't self-deprecation that made me question, it was genuine curiosity. My money had run out a long time ago. I had no job, I was still a handful even if I had mellowed out. I could give them privacy, freedom, one less mouth to feed.

Brittany had said I could just pack up and come home tomorrow after school, with her.

Come home, like I had been on vacation. Like it was so commonplace. It made me smile and I had nodded.

So I had packed up everything, which now meant two duffel bags instead of one. It had been weird, driving to school with both of them. The air was thick and the ride was silent. I guess we were reflecting. I was. A lot. They had done so much and I was leaving them.

When we parked no one moved.

"Thank you," I said quietly. Too quietly. I cleared my throat. "Thank you for everything."

I saw Will looking at me in the rearview mirror. He nodded. "You're welcome, Santana."

We got out of the car, slowly. It was as if as soon as we got out we'd be in the real world, where I really would be gone. Out of the guest bedroom that used to be a craft room.

I stood by the car door and looked at Ms. Pillsbury. She stared at me, her skirt blowing slightly in the breeze. "Santana," she started.

"Thank you for...all of it," I said. She knew.

She nodded twice, eyes wide. She moved forward and put a hand on my shoulder.

Then they walked towards the school, Will carrying one of my duffel bags.

It was stupid, I know, because I would still see them everyday. And it was stupid because I was going from one great situation to the next. And it was stupid because I actually had second period with Mr. Schue. But I couldn't help wiping my face on my sleeve and heading towards the choir room before the first bell.

Brittany was waiting for me there.

/

_Thursday Night_

"The lampshade?" I guessed, pointing to the red lamp sitting on her bedside table.

"Nope," she said, popping the p.

We were playing I Spy, lying shoulder to shoulder on her bed. It was after dinner. Her parents had been kind. Laying down a few rules. I would sleep in the free room downstairs. If Brittany and I were in a room alone together the door stayed open. I had the same curfew as Brittany. And a list of chores.

It was a pretty sweet deal.

"Your Cheerios uniform?" I pointed the uniform hanging on the closet door.

"Nope," she said again, smiling big, barely able to contain her enthusiasm.

She had spent this entire round staring at me as I guessed, trying to find the illusive red item she had 'spied.' I frowned and turned towards her. "I give up."

"Nope," she said, laughing.

I sighed and glanced around the room. "Pen holder...thing?" I said pointing to the small plastic bin sitting on her desk.

"Nope," she said softly, scooting closer to me.

"Your blanket?" I asked.

"That's pink," she said, shaking her head.

"Well, I don't know, Britt, I've guessed all the red items in the room," I said shrugging. I was faking exasperation and she knew it.

"Okay, fine, wanna know what it was?" She asked shuffling closer.

"I'm dying to know," I said turning towards her.

Her face was serious, though and very, very close to mine.

"Lips," she said quietly, moving forward.

/

_Later Thursday Night_

I heard the door creak slightly open and the presence there pause. Any other time it would have terrified me. Not now, though. I knew it was her. The bed dipped as she crawled in behind me, scooting close and pulling me into her.

"Hi," she whispered, breath hot on my ear.

"Hi," I said back rolling over to face her.

She rested her head on top of mine, just so we would be closer.

"Britt, I don't want your parents to catch us," I whispered, nuzzling closer to her regardless.

"I'm just here to check on you," she whispered, voice heavy with sleep. "And I missed you."

I chuckled lightly into her neck. "It's been a few hours."

She sighed and pulled me closer, even though I didn't think there was any room left between us. She mumbled something but I didn't hear it. I let her hold me, let my eyes drift shut.

"Will you talk to me now?" She whispered.

She had pulled away while I had begun to fall asleep. My body jerked awake. "What?" I mumbled, blinking hard and trying to fight off the sleepiness.

"Will you talk to me now?" She repeated.

"About?" I asked yawning wide.

"Mark."

I shivered. I cringed. I pulled away from her slightly.

"Don't do that, Santana," she whispered pulling me back towards her, leaving enough space between us for the words, for our breath to mingle without it becoming stifling.

"Brittany..." I whined.

"Shhh," she said, stroking behind my shoulder. "It's okay."

We laid there for a while. I tried to let my mind settle. I was wide awake now. Wide awake and a little afraid. I didn't know what to say or what Brittany wanted from me but things were different now. I was slipping and I didn't want it. It needed to stop.

"I just...don't know," I said after a long time.

She nodded.

"I'm just afraid of the shock of it, I think. Like getting into a pool. I'm afraid to just dive in, like the water will be too cold or I don't know how to swim..." I stopped. "That sounds so stupid."

"It doesn't," she said gently.

"It does. But I'm just so used to be trapped inside my own head. I'm afraid of just..." I closed my eyes hard. "I'm afraid of letting it go. I don't know why." My throat felt tight. "It's not like I want to hang onto this, but I don't know how to let it go." My breath caught as a sob formed in my throat and I hated myself for being like this, crying again after having an amazing night with Brittany. "No one taught me how."

"You can do this, San," she whispered to me. "I'm here. Always."

She held me while I cried, while the tears slipped down my cheek or pooled by my nose and she brushed them away like it was nothing.

I cried in a different way, though. It wasn't heavy, it didn't hurt or wrack my body or make me feel like I was going to die. It just felt like something was being lifted off of me. I was ready to move on. I was ready to move on from everything. Holding on was holding me back.

And I had a lot to recover if I wanted to get everything this year, like I had planned on over the summer.


	24. Chapter 24 We Need To Talk

**AN: **So, I gotta say, this chapter is one of my favorites. For real. I loved writing it, it flew by and it flowed so well. I hope you like it too. I hope I don't disappoint.

As always, thank you so much for the reviews. Your words keep me writing, well, writing faster. It's weird that we're now so close to the end. Only two more chapters after this. Wow.

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><p><strong>Chapter 24 | We Need to Talk<strong>

It had felt like a small hiccup in everything, that night. But Brittany had stopped me in my tracks, pulling me back, making me face these things that I wasn't really sure how to face. I knew it couldn't always be like that. I knew I needed to get my shit together. I knew I needed to grab a hold of my life again and try to make things right. I couldn't let those horrible feelings seep back into me and take over. I didn't want to be that anymore. I couldn't. I wanted to be better and not just for Brittany. For me. This was it. This was my senior year.

I had missed so much already.

* * *

><p>Her sister had spent the night at her friends house and was still there. Her mother was out doing some type of housewife thing with other housewives, even though she worked. Brittany's father always worked on Saturday. Like for as long as I can remember. The guy never took a day off.<p>

"Tell me something," Brittany said as she moved around her room, picking up items and trying to find a new place for them.

"Like?" I said staring at the ceiling, arms on my stomach. The door to her bedroom was open even though no one was home.

"Something I don't know about you," she said picking up a pile of clothes off of the floor and stuffing them into her hamper.

"You know everything, Britt Britt," I said sitting up.

"Everything?" She said turning stuffing the hamper full of clothes. "There's no way I can know everything."

I smiled at her and shook my head. "You do, you're like, some kind of anomaly, I know, but it's true."

She stopped and stared at me for a moment. "Does Nemo live in an anomaly?"

"Anemone."

She nodded. "Right. Well, there's gotta be something."

I scuffed my feet against the carpet, thinking hard. It sure felt like Brittany knew everything about me. We had been together for so long that it felt like everything had been shared and seen and known. "When I was younger. Like, younger than Lydia. Before you. You know, the dark ages." She smiled at that and joined me on the bed, sitting cross-legged and facing me. "I wanted to be a firefighter."

"Really?" She asked tilting her.

"Really," I replied, voice serious. "I was determined. I even asked for a fire truck for Christmas."

"Yeah? Because I remember you wanted to be a Doctor," Brittany said quietly finding my hand and pulling it into her lap.

"Yeah. I, and if I can quote my five year old self, a 'nooro bran surgeon'," I said, giggling at the word.

"I wanted to be a vet," Brittany said smiling.

"And a dancer."

"And President."

"Well, two out of three isn't bad."

"I've had to doctor up Lord Tubbington a few times," she said looking around the room, as if he was waiting just out of sight. "Where has he gone now?"

"Probably hiding from me," I said grimacing.

"LT loves you, silly, everyone does." She said squeezing my hand gently.

"He doesn't."

"He does," she whined. "So do my parents and Lydia. And me of course."

"Of course," I said, rolling my eyes.

"It's always good to say it," she said and I turned to look at her. "I'm gonna kiss you now."

"Okay," I whispered.

And then she was kissing me. And I was kissing her and everything felt hot as she pushed me back onto her bed and threw one of her deliciously long legs over my hips. She kissed me like it was going out of style, like she wouldn't be able to do it again, like it had been too long. Like she was afraid I'd ask her to stop.

I let my hands wrap themselves into her hair and kissed her back. I wanted to tell her it was okay. I was okay, everything would be okay. But that would involve taking my lips off of hers and I wasn't ready to do that just yet.

And then I heard it, small and far away. A knocking sound. I tried to ignore it until it came again, hesitant sounding.

"Britt," I mumbled. She backed off immediately, sitting as far away from me on the bed as possible. She looked scared, a little hurt and a little mad.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, looking away from me.

"What? No, B.," I said, sitting up and scooting towards her, grabbing her hands in mine. "No, you're fine. You're perfect. It's just that..."

Someone knocked on the door again, a little louder.

"Oh," she said.

"Yeah," I said, standing. "I'll get it."

"No, no, I'll get it, you're the guest," she said jumping up and stretching. She stopped at the door. "Hungry? I am. I wish it was pizza."

I rolled my eyes and flopped back on the bed. I could hear her bound down the stairs. We had been so close, we were home alone and it had felt better than okay it had felt..._right. _It was like when you don't eat for a long time and you don't feel hungry but as soon as you do you realize you're starving. I was starving for Brittany to be that close to me again.

I heard the door open and Brittany's chipper voice muffled in the distance.

Then another voice, barely audible, but I had stood up and was at the door now, moving to stand at the top of the stairs. It was male.

I heard movement then saw Brittany at the bottom opening her mouth to call for me. Her face looked tight, she looked upset. "Someone here to see you," she said quietly.

I bolted down the stairs but she had already moved back towards the entry way, around the door. I moved to stand by here. "Britt, who is it?"

I froze and my face fell.

What was he doing here? Here of all places. The one place I felt like I could escape from everything and face everything. When I had made so much progress, had time alone with Brittany.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, confused. I wasn't angry, just lost. I didn't know why he was here, what he wanted.

"Can I come in?" He asked, voice firm, like always, like he thought he was in control.

"It's not my house," I said, crossing my arms and standing just behind Brittany's shoulder.

I saw him look to Brittany who was staring back at him, face hard. No one said anything. We just stood, having silent stare downs and waiting for someone to make the first move.

"Your mother kicked me out," he said slowly, finally looking away from Brittany who had held her own so well.

I blinked a few times, shocked. She had kicked him out? Why hadn't she called? ...but I was still ignoring her calls. I knew it was a bit immature but I felt like I had so much going on and I couldn't take the time to sort through her bullshit while I was dealing with mine.

Brittany looked at me, I knew what she was asking. I cocked an eyebrow once and moved away from the door, towards the dining room.

"Come in," Brittany said coldly moving to follow me. She left the door open and I knew he was unsure what to do, but I heard him move into the house carefully and shut the door.

I took a seat at the table and rubbed my hand against my forehead. Brittany stood by me. "Do you want me to kick him out? You okay?"

"I'm fine," I said, turning to look up at her, she had leaned close to me, I rested my head against her shoulder. She was the most comforting thing in the world.

He cleared his throat and Brittany stood slowly, turning towards him. I knew she was just itching for him to say something about our displays of affection, then she could throw him out, this was her house.

"Wanna sit?" I asked.

He nodded and moved to the table, sitting at the head. I couldn't help but roll my eyes. Still, he looked different. He looked older or maybe I was just noticing all of the gray that peppered his hair. He looked tired, too, very tired. I bet it hurt for him, to realize this was now his life.

"Thirsty?" Brittany asked harshly, staring at him, arms crossed.

"No, thank you," he said quietly, glancing a look to her before returning to look at me.

"Do you want anything, babe?" She asked turning towards me, smiling, uncrossing her arms and being sweet, gentle. Being Brittany.

"I would actually love some water," I said smiling up at her. I couldn't help but be amused. This Brittany was funny and possessive and in the weirdest way so very sweet.

"Comin' right up," she said turning to head towards the kitchen. She stopped, though, turned and kissed me ever so softly, right on the lips, in front of my father.

I smiled wide as I watched her go and then turned back to my father. The expression he wore was not one of anger. It was confusion along with...something sad flickering there just behind his glasses. "Why are you here?" I asked quietly. I didn't want to fight, but I didn't want to play around with words. He was stealing precious alone time with Brittany.

He was silent for a beat and then began to talk. "There has been a lot between us recently, Santana. Recent events have made me take a step back and I think that maybe some of my feelings have been misplaced." He spoke carefully, like he was diffusing a bomb.

"No shit," I mumbled.

He stops for a moment. I could see him debating on whether or not he should say something to me. He didn't, just continued. "Life is not what it used to be. The house isn't...and your mother is so emotional." He stopped.

And I realized then I had never heard my father falter over words, or overlook a chance to reprimand me. Something inside of my chest sparked, tightened, moved too quickly for me to really notice. But I knew this was it. This was something big. This was important.

Brittany walked back into the room and put a glass of ice water in front of me. I took it gratefully and took a drink. She pulled a chair to sit in between us, tilted her body towards my father and took one of my hands into hers. She turned her head and smiled at me and I smiled back. She was a comfort I needed right now and wanted.

He watched Brittany for a moment before continuing. "I want to try and fix the way things have turned out," he said slowly, quietly.

Brittany scoffed and I felt her hand squeeze mine.

"Britt," I said, squeezing back gently. Brittany stops, shakes her head.

I nodded at him to continue. "I have a lot to atone for."

"Damn right," Brittany said, voice firm.

"Britt," I said again, trying to coax her into some semblance of calm.

"No, Santana," she said, turning towards me. "He hurt you." She turned to my father, no fear. "I watched her for months. She got thin and hurt and angry. Angry at everything. Angry at me," her voice wavered slightly but she didn't stop. "She's been through so much and I watched her, this girl that I _love_," she emphasized the word and nearly spit it at my father. "Like, shrink away. Now she's not shrinking again. She's fuller and brighter. You can't take that away. Not now. Why now? Why?"

Her voice seemed to echo through the entire house, my entire body. She was right, why now? Was it because he got kicked out? He just wanted to go home, make my mother stop crying. Did he just want to feel better about himself? Or did he genuinely want to try. It mattered. It mattered so much that it hurt someplace inside of me.

He stopped and took off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This is hard for me too," he said.

"No, it was easy for you to kick her out," Brittany snapped back. I didn't want her to fight my battles but I had rarely seen Brittany like this, built into a rage. It wasn't anything near to the type of fits I threw, but seeing it from her, from someone so pure, it felt huge. Unreal.

"Santana needs to come back home now, this has gone on long enough," he said, staring at her.

"No, I'm better. I'm better to her." Brittany said fiercely.

"I'm her father," he began.

"I'm her family," Brittany interrupted. "You can't just swoop in and take her now."

"She needs to come home," he said and I could hear the frustration in his voice building.

"You made her leave, why now?" I could feel Brittany's body shaking slightly, the early signs of tears.

"I don't know," he said angrily. "According to everyone I don't seem to know anything." He slammed his fist on the table and Brittany jumped.

She began to cry at that point, she squeezed my hand and used her other to brush away tears. My heart ached for her. I let go of her hand to rub her back gently. She turned to me and I moved a strand of hair behind her ear gently. She nodded and pulled the hand to her lips, kissing my fingers gently. I smiled at her, softly, hopefully reassuring. She let my hand go and I turned my attention back to him.

"Why?" I asked. "And don't get pissy again. This is Brittany's house, not yours. Tell me. You do know." I could see the recognition of it all in his eyes. "Why now? Why not earlier? Why do you want to make things better now?"

Brittany turned back to look at him, glare at him, really. He had removed his glasses and was wiping at his eyes. I knew he was so angry. Having to explain himself to two teenage girls.

He sighed. "Because..." He stopped. "It's complicated, Santana. I don't think you understand..."

"No," I interrupted. "You don't get to do that to me. Don't treat me like I'm stupid. Like I don't know. I knew a lot about us, about our family before anyone else did. It hurts doesn't it? Like unreal pain to realize that you haven't even been living all of this time." I stopped and watched his face contort. Anger, sadness, relief, anger, confusion. It never settled. "That you've just been going through the motions and you lost yourself in the image of it all, in the pretty things and the labels."

He shook his head. "I know," he said slowly. "I know we have a lot of issues to work through but I want to try, your mother wants to try."

"You can't just take her from me," Brittany said. "Not now." She turned to look at me. "I just got you back."

"Britt Britt," I said quietly.

"Yeah, San," she replied, sniffing once.

"Can I talk to him alone, please?" She turned to me quickly, eyes searching my face. "I promise I'll be okay. I'll call for you if I need anything."

She shot a glare back at my father and stood. "I love you," she said firmly, probably harder than she meant to and her voice wavered from the aftershocks of crying. She softened though and leaned down to kiss my forehead firmly. I squeezed her hand before she disappeared and turned back to him.

We sat in silence for a long time.

"Do you really love her?" He asked exhaling. He sounded exhausted and oddly resigned.

"Like never before," I said, feeling the corners of my mouth turn upward. It was so nice to be able to say now and oddly easy. "Yeah."

He shook his head and stared at the table, leaning back in his chair. "There is so much to do," he said.

For the first time ever, I felt like he was leveling with me. Talking to me like a person, not like I was property or just his daughter. Just part of that image.

"Like what?" I asked, taking a drink of my glass. I was asking seriously. I wanted this to work out. I really did. I didn't want to just be this person jumping from house to house and then to college, losing track of my family until one of them died. I didn't want that. I still had so much time left to fix everything.

He stared at me for a long time. And then he talked and I listened. I gave him input and, the most shocking thing of all, he listened. Sometimes we raised our voices, but things would calm down quickly after. I don't think either of us wanted to fight.

Then he left.

I shut the door and worked my way upstairs. I felt cheated a little. Brittany's family would be home, all of them, they'd all be here tomorrow. I had been cheated out of alone time with her.

When I opened her bedroom door she was lying on her bed. She sat up quickly and looked angry, but not at me, just upset at the entire situation, probably at having been sitting in her room for almost two hours.

"We need to talk," I said standing in the doorway.


	25. Chapter 25 Touch Me

**AN: **Well, this is the penultimate chapter.

I really did work hard on it.

Hope you enjoy the Valentine's Episode tonight. I will be missing it...due to the evils of work.

Special thanks to Jellysnack.

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><p><strong>Chapter 25 | Touch Me<br>**

She didn't say anything, just stared at me, arms crossed over her chest.

"I'm sorry that took so long," I said.

Nothing. No response.

"My mom wants me to come home," I said gently, still standing in the doorway.

Her entire body seemed to tighten.

"My father said that she kicked him out because it was his fault I was gone," I said moving into the room and shutting the door behind me.

She still didn't talk.

"He's really trying, Britt. We talked about a lot of things. I really think he just wants to make things better. Mainly because he wants to go home instead of being forced to stay at a hotel...but...I think he's trying," I said quietly moving to sit beside her.

"You think?" She said uncrossing her arms and standing up. "What about when he gets back home and things go to normal and he kicks you out again?"

"Britt," I said gently.

"No, Santana, you can't just go back to them like nothing happened," she said pacing the room.

"Brittany, they're my family, how can I not try?" I knew she was upset, I knew and I understood. But still, they were my family, my only one.

"I don't want to lose you again," she said, stopping her pacing and facing me. She looked genuinely scared.

"Britt," I said again standing and taking a step towards her.

"No," she said, holding up an arm to stop me. "I did. You ignored me. You were so different and so far away but you were right there. I didn't understand how you could be so far away but right there looking so small. I was so confused and I didn't do anything. I don't wanna do that again. I can't."

"Brittany, please," I said moving towards her, trying to pull her to me. It made me ache, to hear this, to see her like this.

"I love you," she said, letting me pull her close.

"I love _you_," I said back, holding her close. Being pressed against her seemed to make things better, seemed to make everything feel okay again.

"No, Santana," she said, pulling away to look me in the eye. "I love you so much that it hurts and feels like everything."

"I know," I said and I closed the distance between us, pressing my lips to hers, soft. Kissing Brittany was like being reminded why I was put here. To kiss her, to be with her. She felt like everything when I was with her like this, when we were alone and could talk about anything and it would be our secret from the big world outside. From everything and everyone in the world. It was just us.

She kissed me back.

"You're not," she began, in between kisses. "Gonna leave me...right?"

I stopped and met her eyes. "Of course not. Never."

"Never," I whispered whenever we broke contact. "Never." I meant it. I meant it deep down where I could feel it, where I could feel her. I kissed her lips, her cheek, her neck. I loved her neck, loved kissing her where the skin was so elegant, the way it would vibrate lightly when she spoke and the way she would shiver as I kissed, sucked on the skin, tasted her with my tongue. It was intimate, especially in that moment where she would tilt her head, it was like she was letting me in, letting me be close to her.

We had done it a million times before. Now it felt different, it felt more real. More concrete and it made my breathing lose it's steady rhythm.

I had pulled her close to me, wrapped my arms around her and dug my hands into her back, holding onto her. It was slightly awkward, standing, kissing her neck like my life depended on it but I didn't want to stop. I wanted to kiss her like this forever, just so I could be close to her, I needed to be close to her. Things were going to change, I could feel it and I knew they needed to, but that didn't make it less scary.

Brittany did though.

"San," she whispered.

I didn't stop. I kissed down her neck and pulled the collar of her shirt away to kiss her bare shoulder. The shirt was annoying, in my way. I let my hands drift down and pull at the hem, bringing it up and over her head. I slid the strap of her bra down her shoulder. Her skin was so soft. I brushed my fingertips over her shoulder.

"San," she said again, voice quiet.

"Yeah," I replied. I looked up at her face then and found her eyes. She looked flushed but also slightly confused as if she was unsure.

"Do you wanna...?" She didn't finish her sentence.

I blinked a few times. I leaned in close to her and let my cheek rest against hers, pulling us close together. I wrapped my arms and held her there, close to me. Her body was so warm and I secretly loved that she was a little bit taller than me. "C'mere," I mumbled, pulling away gently. I grabbed her hand and led her to her bed. "Lie down," I whispered to her.

She obeyed. She crawled onto the bed and lay on her back, propped up on her elbows, watching me. I followed her, crawling beside her and laying my body up against hers. We were face to face and when our lips met again, she fell back onto her pillow and wrapped her arms around me. One hand rested on my lower back and the other just barely tangled in my hair. It was the most comforting feeling, the gentle pressure of her hand on my head as we kissed, as our tongues met and my head went light and I could feel myself becoming very suddenly warm then hot. All because of Brittany, because I was on top of her, kissing her with more intensity that when we had started. I knew where this was heading.

I broke away for a moment. "Lean up," I said quietly and she complied. I unhooked her bra and slid it off of her before I began to kiss her again.

Her hands moved down my body and then she was pulling my shirt off, forcing me to stop kissing her. Clothes began to disappear in between kisses. We took our time, there was no rush. Soon we were pressed against each other, kissing like it was breathing, completely naked.

I felt like I was on fire. Everywhere our skin touched made me feel electric, made me feel like I needed her. I needed to be close to her. I wanted it. "Britt," I whispered into her neck.

"Yeah?" she said, her reply was barely a whisper.

I didn't have anything to say, I just wanted to hear her. I think she understood because she didn't press me for anything else, she just let me kiss her, let me touch her body, all over until my hands stopped at her waist. I ran my hand over the smooth skin where her jeans would have hugged her hips.

She whimpered slightly and I felt my entire body jolt.

"Touch me," she whispered.

I thought I was going to explode. I couldn't ever recall being this turned on by Brittany, ever. She had always been attractive and sexy but never like this. This was much more intimate, this was more than just sex because we wanted it. This was so much more intimate.

I let my hand wander lower. We both exhaled like we had been holding our breath when I slid into her. She was wet, more so than I ever remembered. I gave her a moment to adjust and began to move. Her head fell back on her pillow and she sighed.

I slid another finger into her. Her body tensed, unexpecting and I didn't slow my rhythm. Her eyes darted to mine and she brushed the hair that had fallen down around my face away, tucking it sweetly behind my ears. She opened her mouth to say something but stopped when I used my thumb to press onto her clit. Her body arched in surprise.

I moved faster. I wanted to build her up higher than she had ever been. She was already so wet. _I_ was already so wet and all I had done was kiss her and touch her. Her legs tensed and then her body began to rock, her hips moving with the rhythm I had set with my hands.

"Fuck," I gasped as the image of her moving as I slid in and out of her sent another jolt of pleasure straight between my legs. I wanted relief, it felt like I was on fire. But I wanted to watch Brittany without being caught in my own pleasures. I needed to see her like this. This raw and open.

She whimpered again and I worked quicker. She bit her lip, one of her hands moved behind her head, grabbing a hold of one of the wooden bars of her headboard and gripping tightly. Her other hand clutched to me, almost painfully but all it did was make me work faster. I pressed my thumb to her clit again and she moaned so loudly that I couldn't help but make a sound in response. It was unintelligible, I was lost in the sight of her.

She was so hot and slick. Being inside of her made me feel good, made me feel loved. It said something to me that I couldn't really place. Like she loved me this much to let her close to her. It was amazing and overwhelming and incredibly intoxicating. Especially when she would open her eyes, because she would look at me, not through me, right into me. Everything felt more real when she did that. When the pleasure became too much and she threw her head back against the pillow and her knuckles would go white from her grip on the head board my stomach would flip.

Sex wasn't a stranger between Brittany and I. But it had been a long time and I felt like we had changed, I know I had. It had been since the summer, we had been apart, we had fought. I had fought. Now that I was with her like this again it made me fall in love with her.

Her body began to tense up and I knew she was going to come any second. I tried to work faster in her, with more force but my arm was becoming tired from the constant movement and the angle. Then her entire body tensed and her back arched off the bed. She gasped loudly, moaned something incoherent that sounded a lot like Santana. I continued to move in her. I could feel everything, I could see what I was doing to her. It was amazing and felt like some type of miracle as she contracted around my fingers and there was a rush of warmth and wetness.

I slowed my pace before finally pulling out of her. I kissed her lips softly, even though I knew she was still in a post-orgasm state of calm. She smiled lightly, though and pulled me down on top of her. "Hey," she whispered after a few seconds.

"Hi," I said back, softly, settling on top of her, resting my head on her chest. I could hear her heart beat, how it was slowing to an even pace. It was comforting.

"I missed you," she said softly. I could feel her hands in my hair, running her fingers through it gently.

I chuckled against her chest. "What're you talking about? I live here," I said turning my face to kiss right above her heart.

"I missed you like this," she said softly.

I had missed her like this, too. I had missed the intimacy, the way it was to be that close with someone, especially since it was with Brittany and I loved her. And she knew me. All of me, every tiny crevice and she still loved it, even when I couldn't. Especially then.

"I missed you, too," I said after a few moments of silence.

"That's good to know," she said.

I lifted my head off of her chest and looked at her. "Yeah?"

"Definitely," she said, closing the space between us. She kissed me slowly, made things gentle. When she pushed her tongue into my mouth and slid it against mine I realized just how turned on I was, just how much I wanted her in that moment, wanted her to touch me.

It was almost like she was reading my mind when she rolled us gently, with practiced ease and grace that I knew only Brittany could pull off. She kissed my lips and cheeks and down my neck, down the soft valley between my breasts and I felt her going lower, letting her hands trace along my body, up my sides, graze across my chest and nipples. My back arched at her touch. She felt amazing, this felt amazing but I didn't want it. A lump formed in my throat. I grabbed her hands, stopped her movements. She looked up at me, she was kissing my stomach, making it twist. "Don't go," I said softly. I didn't know what I meant but I could feel a slight panic rising in me.

Fuck, this was it. She was going to touch me, the first time anyone had been this close to me since _him_. Thinking about him made my body tense up and I knew she felt it because she crawled back on top of me and pressed her body against me. She was warm and soft and comforting, she tried to reassure me with kisses to random places. My shoulder, the palm of my hand, my collar bone, my forehead. She whispered sweet things as she kissed me. I couldn't really understand her, I was still trying to calm down. I think she was just whispering things, making soft humming noises to help me calm.

I exhaled heavily. "I'm okay," I whispered after a few more moments.

She looked up to me and her eyes darted in between mine. "You sure?" Her voice was barely above a whisper too.

I nodded. She hesitated for just a second before leaning forward and pressing her lips so very gently to mine. She sucked on my lower lip, let her tongue sneak it's way into my mouth and wreak havoc, let it build me up as her hands touched me. It felt like she was everywhere at once.

"Can I touch you?" She asked it quietly, whenever our lips broke apart.

I didn't respond, I didn't think I could, I nodded my head slightly and she seemed to understand. I was dizzy off of Brittany, intoxicated. I didn't want to stop kissing her, it was a distraction from what was happening. Every time I felt her hands move lower I would tense up and she would retreat, but now. Now, I was ready. That scared me more than anything, though. This was going to happen. I wanted it but I was afraid of it.

But I wanted it so bad. I wanted her.

I felt her hand moving lower, lower, lower until she was sliding two fingers inside of me. I gasped and our kissing broke apart, my head fell back and I fought to find steady breathing. A million thoughts were swirling around in my mind. She was touching me, so intimately and it scared me but it felt so right, so good. It made me feel oddly safe and I knew that was only because it was Brittany. Brittany who was the most good thing in the world, the best person I knew. I also felt a little self-conscious. It had been a long time for me and I was so wet and already felt gone in the feeling of her moving in me. My hips were already moving with her, rocking with each thrust of her fingers.

"San," she gasped out, her voice high-pitched and breathy.

I could only moan in response and move with her. I wanted to feel this, all of this. I wanted to lose myself in it. In Brittany, with Brittany inside me and breathing heavily on my skin. I opened my eyes that I had kept squeezed shut and looked at her. Her cheeks were flushed again, her eyes looked tired because they were halfway closed and her mouth was open slightly. She was watching me until she found my eyes and we held contact. It made my insides twist and I could feel myself getting close, so close too fast.

"Britt," I gasped out and she picked up her pace, moving faster in me. My legs began to quiver, I felt my body arching off the bed and when she brushed her thumb over my clit it was all I needed to go tumbling over the edge. The pleasure hit me hard and fast and I kept my eyes locked with Brittany's until I couldn't help it when they fluttered closed and I threw my head back, gasping loudly as she still moved in me.

I felt light headed and couldn't help the way my body moved against her as I came. My breath caught in my throat and came out in gasps that were so close to moans I couldn't tell the difference. I tried to say her name, tell her I loved her but the words couldn't seem to get past my breath and came out in throaty groans of pleasure.

When I collapsed back on the bed she slowed her pace and pulled slowly out of me. I whimpered, I felt so sensitive. She slid herself halfway on top of me and kissed her way up my neck, to my cheek, and pressed her lips gently to mine, like I had done to her.

I couldn't help but smile. "That was amazing," I mumbled. I felt tired, so so tired. The divine kind of exhaustion that follows every time I make love to Brittany. That's what it was, that's what it had to be. It couldn't be that intense and feel so meaningful for it to just be sex.

She laid her head on my chest and wrapped her arms around me. I rest a hand on her head. "I love you, Santana," she whispered.

"I love you, too," I said back automatically. I didn't even have to think about it anymore or be afraid. It was the way it was, the way I wanted it to be always.

I felt like she wanted to say something, she would fidget slightly, move to get comfortable, settle, then change up her position on me again. "You okay?" I asked after her fourth shift.

She was silent and pushed herself up on elbows. I adjusted my position to get a better look at her. Her eyes raked over my face, pausing only when she would come in contact with my eyes. "I know this was hard for you," she said softly, glancing down and picking at the blanket. "I know what this means, I think. To let me."

Her words were a little jumbled but I had become fluent in Brittany long ago. "It was really hard," I said and her eyes jerked up towards mine. "For like half a second." I stopped and looked down, trying to assemble the words I wanted to say. "But it's you, Britt. Being with you is like...it's like breathing or walking or something that's so easy for you to do you don't even have to think about it."

She smiled at me, eyes bright. "You're the best," she said. She sat up and grabbed at the blanket folded at the bottom of her bed, she pulled it over us and relaxed into my chest again.

"Mmm," I hummed softly.

We stayed in the comforting silence for a while, listening to the others breathing, feeling our hearts gently pounding in our chests. It was the greatest comfort I had had in a long time and I was so thankful for it. So grateful to Brittany just for being, for loving me.

She pulled away from me slowly after a few minutes. I was almost asleep. "You're not leaving are you?" She asked it quietly, like she was afraid of the answer.

"Hey," I said and she looked up at me, eyes wide. "Not for a while. A long while."

She kissed me everywhere. I kissed her everywhere.

Nothing was perfect. Life was still this crazy thing I was trying to make my way through. Brittany though, Brittany was perfect and in that moment we were perfect, together. We were everything that mattered and she made me feel like things were right. Like things would be right because I knew she would be there with me through all of it, that she had been there the entire time.


	26. Chapter 26 But I Have Promises To Keep

**AN: **So, wow. This is it. Seems like it hit pretty fast, right? I feel like I have a lot to say. But I'll try to keep it short.

First, thank you for the reviews and the favorites and alerts and everything. Thanks for sticking with Miles during it's hiatus. Thanks for liking it, especially when I didn't. Thank you for leaving really kinda words and feedback and everything, everything, everything. It has made me smile, kept me sane at work and given me something to look forward to on days where things just seem to not wanna work right. There have been so many reviews (Over 100!) that I wish I could thank every one of you individually.

Secondly, Miles started as a way to blow off steam, get rid of some of the emotions I was feeling and couldn't really find a way to deal with. It feels very personal at times and now that the story is coming to a close it's very...cathartic for me. Hopefully someone found closure, understanding, or something through this. Even if that something is just an entertaining fanfic.

(Warning, shameless promotion of self ahead): Thirdly, you should totally follow me on Tumblr! I'm always, always writing and brainstorming Brittana fanfiction, just ask my Beta, the amazing Blackshield (and read her stories, especially Brittany the Vampire Slayer and her amazing drabbles like Pet Store). My tumblr is just my pen name, PenelopeCross, I'm having trouble keeping up with it because of my lack of internet, but that is hopefully turning around soon. Also, you should totally author alert me because I have a new multi-chapter Brittana fic that I'll be starting once I get farther into my other story, Fighting for Nothing. It's a whole new type of angsty. Actiony angsty.

Fourthly, I'm not really completely done with Miles. Chapter 18 was originally supposed to be a sort of repeat of Chapter 9. I will probably add that later, as a sort of bonus chapter. I'll probably go back and mega edit the hell out of this thing when I get a chance, so yeah. Keep an eye on it, if you like.

Okay, now that you've suffered through the novel of a note I've left you and put up with my shameless promotion of self(SPOY?) I can happily say: enjoy the last chapter of Miles to Go Before I Sleep.

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><p><strong>Chapter 26 | But I Have Promises to Keep<strong>

_**Five Months Later**_

Christmas had been so hard to co-ordinate. I refused to be without Brittany. She refused to be without me and I was still staying with the Pierces on and off. I had gone home a few times, but would end up back at the Pierces if things felt off or uncomfortable- which they did a lot in the beginning. They didn't mind, I couldn't see how they were so open and friendly. But then I saw the way Brittany just _was_ and it all made sense. They were the most open and loving people I knew. Still, my mother wanted me with her so badly for Christmas that I couldn't refuse her. Still, I wasn't going to not see Brittany on Christmas and I honestly felt like I had earned the right to demand these types of things from my parents. All I had to slip in was a little bit of those "It makes me feel more comfortable." lines and they were kinda sold.

So Christmas felt a little clumsy, I spent the Eve with my parents, we watched movies and talked awkwardly, trying to relive our old traditions but finding them a little forced. We did however all sit on the couch and watch old claymantion films. That felt good, we had always done it and even though the movies were kind of lame now it was nice to have the distraction of the film in front of us. It was alike an excuse, if we could get used to being around each other to watch movies, maybe we could just get used to each other without a movie as a buffer. When I woke up in the morning we had opened gifts, it wasn't really awkward or tense or anything like that. It was more timid than anything. We were all still trying to get used to being a unit and I think we were all surprised we all had gifts.

My mother and I were a lot more comfortable then, she laughed with me and was very excited about gifts, as if I was a child again. I rolled my eyes at her behavior but had been kind of grateful for it. It had made being comfortable around her easier, she had been showing me things weren't going to be so uptight anymore. My father sat on the couch, looking unsure of himself. That was okay, too, though. He still had miles to go before her got to any point of being comfortable.

After gifts were exchanged though I made them pack up everything and head towards the Pierces as had been prearranged. When we arrived at the Pierces they were smiling, genuinely smiling because it was Christmas and they were with their family. When they saw my parents behind me, holding food and some gifts they smiled wider and invited us in from the cold. My mom had made a fuss about being an intrusion while my father had stood awkwardly by. They were dressed as if they were heading to church and weren't quite sure how to react to the way everything was so relaxed. My mother had tried harder than my father, but I think he still just wasn't sure what he was doing here. It was an interesting contrast, my parents attire up against Brittany's parents who were still in pajamas and not at all bothered by it.

I was smothered with hugs from each pierce and a particularly fierce one from Lydia. Brittany had wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into her only the way she could. She had kissed me on the lips like it was nothing but also everything.

My father had turned away but that was better than yelling.

Valentines day, though, that had been amazing. I had held Brittany's hand as we walked down the hall at school, both of us in Cheerios uniforms. I had worked my ass off to get back in good with Sue Sylvester but as much as she played the part of a bully she wasn't going to turn down someone who had made a comeback. She didn't to Quinn, she wouldn't for me. I had kissed Brittany lightly on the lips before we had to part ways and head to our respective classes. It didn't bother me, kissing her there for everyone to see. I felt like I had come too far to let it. I loved Brittany, that was that and I couldn't deny myself anymore due to fear. Brittany didn't deserve it and neither did I.

I had taken her to all of her favorite places that night. And then she spent the evening kissing me. Everywhere.

Spring break had been a big shock. A cruise. A motherfucking cruise to the Bahamas that would have been perfect...except when my mom told me she was going too. I thought maybe I had been sending her too many 'let's bond vibes' because a week in the Bahamas with my mother sounded like a really lame idea. She then told me that Brittany's mom would be coming too, which could on mean Brittany would be there. That made it so worth it. Going on a cruise with your mom might sound lame but it turns out moms are really different when they aren't forced to be moms and they're around friends.

Our mothers had bonded. Brittany told me they had talked a lot while I was living with her. She told me that they still talked a lot and that made me happy. My mom needed a friend, mainly one to distract her while Brittany and I tried to sneak into the bar on deck, which we totally did. The cruise really was great. We had done so much, scene so much, Brittany had spent the entire time smiling and that in turn kept a smile on my face. One time when we had been on deck and Brittany had just burst into happy laughter because we were _here_ doing _this. _My face ached from all the damn smiling.

That and she was totally cool about that night on the cruise that Brittany and I had gotten so drunk that I was reduced to a sobbing heap and Brittany had passed out, half dressed. It was embarassing and the hangover was hell, but our moms just acted like it was okay, like this was a free pass because it was the Bahamas. I'm pretty sure they had only let it slide so that they could get wasted the next night and make us take care of them...which we totally had to do.

Everything felt like it was returning to normal. I was reigning supreme on the Cheerios again. I walked down the hallway like I owned it again, Brittany by my side, fingers laced in mine. People moved for us like they used to, but I knew it was different now. I knew they feared me less, I knew they could see that I couldn't keep that angry smirk on my face when Brittany was around. I was oddly okay with that, the lack of fear, the way people looked at me different. It wasn't as bad as I had always thought.

Glee club was still the Rachel Berry show sometimes. But I got to sing more, so did everyone, actually. There had always been drama in Glee club but it was like one day someone switched on a light bulb that was somehow connected to all of our minds. It finally hit us, this was senior year. In a few short months, not even that, we'd be graduating and going away. It wouldn't matter who got the solos or big numbers or best songs because it would be a thing of the past. The back stabbing and slushies and memories would start to fade as soon as we walked across the stage. The idea weighed heavy on all of us and for the first time ever we were a team again. We were an actual solid club. It was amazing. We were a family, again. It still hurt sometimes to think about the fact that I would lose them soon, lose all of this soon, McKinley, the teachers, the life I had grown used to.

I had kept up with poetry and writing. Except now it was all about Brittany, how I felt for her, how she felt to touch, to be around. It was about all of those little nuances about her that I tried to hard to capture with words but they were too unreal and beautiful, too. I still tried, though and it usually came out bad but Brittany liked it and that was really all that mattered, right?

Will and Emma were still always there. In Glee club Will was this strong ever-present person. He had done so much for me. I held him in the highest respects. Okay, maybe he did do and say stupid things and he made a fool of himself when he tried performing with us but when it came down to it he had helped me when I needed it. He had opened his home to me when I had nothing but snark for him. He had given up privacy and money and who knows what else to keep me in a warm safe environment and had never acted like he regretted it. He was an amazing teacher and a good person and I knew I would never forget that, forget what he had done for me, for all of us in Glee. No matter what happened.

Plus, I liked to think I helped prepare him for having a kid.

Emma and I talked, still. Sometimes we had heavy sessions but a lot of the time we were just friendly. She did listen to me sort through how I felt about my parents. She had helped me when I had moved back in with them and had to deal with their rules again, the lack of seeing Brittany as much because I had grown so attached to her. She helped me deal with the way my parents would handle things I did or said or didn't do. She helped me try to make sense of situations and realize that things were never as big or bad as they seemed, especially when she showed me what I had gone through to get where I was now.

My dad, well, he had come around. Not like he was waving a big rainbow flag or anything. But he didn't flinch when I kissed Brittany now. He didn't look away when I held her hand or tapped her nose playfully or when we did anything that other young couples did. That was a huge improvement. He also hadn't yelled in two months. That was huge, too. He was really trying and I was really grateful. It probably helped that when Brittany came over for dinner once she mentioned something about cars (her dad had an obsession). My father had smiled differently, it wasn't tight lipped and insecure. It was small and genuine.

I knew I was winning in that moment.

And then there was Mark.

He wasn't this big gaping wound that felt like it was festering on me anymore. His presence had almost evaporated completely. Whenever Brittany would press feather-light kisses to my skin I couldn't help but feel like it was this odd baptism. She was washing away all that had happened and replacing it with her love, her presence. It was comforting and every time she did it I felt like someone was rubbing aloe on a burn or neosporin on a scar. She was slowly erasing everything about him.

Mark was just this thing that had happened now. He had changed me, no doubt. He had mellowed me as a person and molded me. He had taught me a lot. Not to over react, to be more aware of what's going on around me. I was still paranoid of men, I carried pepper spray now and was very, very careful at night. But I wasn't a wreck, I wasn't what he had left me as that night in the alleyway. I was more than that, I had grown. I had grown stronger and that was something that I found solace in. That was something I was proud of myself for having done. Life moved on and so had I.

I had decided to tell my mother about him. That had happened around February. I had been feeling really high on life. Things were working out, Brittany and I were perfect, I was back on Cheerios and laughing in Glee. Really laughing and making jokes. I could be me there, completely open and I needed it.

She had sat and silence and listened, her face contorted in horror as I told her what happened, where I had gone. I knew she wanted to cry, I had seen the tears welling in her eyes. But she had done what I had least expected. She held me at arms length and thanked me for telling her. She pulled me into her, hugging me like a mom. I let her pat my back and whisper things to me. Then I felt my body shake and I sunk into her, resting my head on her lap and wrapping my hands into her skirt and crying, crying like I hadn't in months.

I think that was the day I said goodbye to Mark for the last time.

It was also that day the relationship I had with my mother changed. She had realized what I needed and been my mom again. I couldn't ever remember her doing that before, being a comfort and a mom. She would take care of me but it had always been like a job, something she just had to inevitably do and there was no sense saying anything about it. Small things I had never noticed before meant so much more now. The fact that she had just decided to be the strong mother figure I needed in that moment had solidified the idea in me that things _were changing_.

They were trying really hard. It was a lot to come back from, the drama of it all, the play-pretending realization that I had gone through that day in the park. It felt so long ago, now. We were struggling to find our rhythm as a family again. A real one. I knew I would be going to college soon and part of me took that as a reason not to try. What did it matter if I was going to pack up and leave?

But it would always matter. They would always be my family. They would always be the people who had been with me when I learned to ride a bike and lost my first tooth and had a really, really bad cold. It was a motivation to work harder, to make sure we came out stronger so that when I came home from college things would be okay. I wasn't aiming for perfect. Okay would be wonderful. Okay was better than perfect and happily ever after because happy faded, but content seemed to last. Seemed more real.

She told my dad about it. About Mark. I think he put two and two together about the things I had said at Thanksgiving. A month later he came into my room and held me tightly while he told me he was so sorry. It had been awkward at first since he hadn't touched me in so long, so long I couldn't remember. But he wrapped his arms around me and patted my head like he had when I was a little girl and it was like this invisible wall between us had shattered in that moment. He didn't say anything beyond silent I'm sorry's and now he understood. I didn't ask what he understood, I didn't really want to know. I didn't want them to question me about Mark. I had moved on and they would just have to do so silently.

I think they knew that. Because they didn't bring it up, they asked me if I was okay a lot more, which was fine. They paid me more attention, which was also fine, it was comforting even if it annoyed the hell out of me. It meant they cared.

As for Brittany.

Well, Brittany was the best part of my day. She was the best part of my life. She was the greatest person I knew. The most talented and beautiful and kind-hearted and genuine. She was a constant, always a constant. She was my best friend, my girlfriend. I was in love with that girl. I couldn't ever stop thinking about her. She occupied my most of my time and thoughts and feelings. It was crazy, to be that in love with someone, that I could just _do that._

* * *

><p>I thought about all of these things, everything that had happened, that had gotten me here. It was hard not too, especially when I had the time to think, it wasn't often but I couldn't help but feeling like I was coming to the end of a really long journey. I knew I'd be coming to the end of an even longer one in early June. Graduation was approaching. I put the last of my things in my locked before shutting it.<p>

"Hey," she said, leaning against the locker next to me. I hadn't even noticed her approach.

"Hey," I replied, flashing a smile at her, I couldn't help it whenever she was around and I didn't even try to suppress it.

"What're the plans for the evening, madam?" She asked holding her hand out for me.

I laced my fingers into hers. Perfect fit, her palm was warm and reassuring against mine. "Whatever you wanna do, babe." I meant it. If Brittany wanted to go on a Brittany adventure to find a really neglected looking tree to climb or curl up and watch really bad movies I would do it. I would pretty much be okay with sitting with her quietly if that's what she wanted.

"You always say that," she said shrugging her shoulders.

"I always mean it," I replied, squeezing her hand gently.

"You don't wanna do anything in particular? You're so boring, now," she said, rolling her eyes at me. "So boring."

I nudged her side with my elbow. "What can I say? I'm content."

"Yeah?" She asked, turning to look at me. She stopped in the hallway.

I stopped with her, searching her face. There was more to her question, I could see it in her eyes, in the way her face scrunched slightly as she thought hard about what exactly I was saying. She was so good at dissecting the smallest comments that most people wouldn't get. I looked down at our hands, her light skin against my darker tint.

I nodded. "Yeah. I'm content."

She smiled at me and pulled me down the hall.


	27. Epilogue

**AN:** I started writing this the other morning. I wasn't going to post it, but you know. Maybe it will motivate me to work on the other parts of this I've neglected.

* * *

><p>It felt so weird, to see my room this empty.<p>

My dresser, desk and bed were all that was left. Everything else was packed in boxes.

In a weird way it was...relieving. It was proof I was done here. Proof that I could finally move on and away from everything. Even if everything had turned out okay eventually, I still felt like getting away for a while would do me good.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not running. I don't do that anymore.

It's just, after everything I get to go somewhere new and be exactly who I want to be. People won't know my baggage or how I acted before. They'll just know me. It's a fresh start.

"Hey you," she said.

I turned around and couldn't help the soft smile that broke across my face. "Hey you," I returned.

"Got ya somethin'," she said in that Brittany way. She skipped over to me, hands behind her back.

"Britt," I said, genuinely surprised and guilty. I didn't need a gift and I didn't get her anything. "No, I didn't get you anything."

"That's fine. This isn't a going away to college present anyway," she said, producing a small package from behind her.

I cocked an eyebrow. "Oh?"

She nodded, lips scrunched tight together. She pushed the package into my arms and smiled, eager for me to open it.

It felt like a book. Actually, I knew it was a book. "What is it?" I asked playfully, shaking the package.

"Come on, San," she said, rolling her eyes. "Open it!"

"Okay, okay," I said, tearing gently at the package.

It _was_ a book. A blue one. "Robert Frost," I read, tracing a hand over the name. I searched the cover. "Selected Poems."

"Look inside," Brittany said, stepping to my side and resting her head on my shoulder.

I let my hand rest on the cover for a second. Frost. He wasn't my favorite poet, but he'd been a huge inspiration and a favorite to read. I didn't have a copy of any of his work. It never stopped amazing me how thoughtful and observant Brittany was.

"Open it," she said again, poking me lightly in the ribs.

"Okay," I said, jumping at her touch. I opened the cover. The first page read: This Book Belongs To: Santana. Brittany had scribbled my name in and added a heart to the end. I felt a burst of affection for her and wanted to turn and kiss her so badly. I could feel her bouncing on her feet beside me, there was more.

I turned the page, the first blank one had a note written on it in Brittany's handwriting.

_Dear San_,

_I know you have a lot of poetry books already and this one isn't as pretty as your Emily Dickinson book but I saw it the other day and thought of you. I read a few of them, they're really good but kinda hard to follow. You know he wrote like, three pages about trees? I didn't get that one. Anyway, I read a lot of them and some felt like you. I hope this helps for those days you get flustered because you can't find your words._

_You can keep this close to learn and read_

_And read his poems about his trees._

_And write your own about whatever_

_You and I both know it'll be clever_

_I'm not really good at poetry_

_But hold this close and think of me_

_Love, Britt Britt_

"You wrote me a poem," I said, letting my hand trace of the words. "Thank you." It was the sweetest thing I'd ever read and probably my new favorite poem, as lame as that sounds.

"Yep, I worked super hard on it," she said proudly. She kissed my cheek and stepped away, grabbing one of the last boxes in my room. "You ready?"

This was it, we were leaving.

I set the book carefully on top of the last box and picked it up. "Whenever you are."

She nodded and headed out the door.

I stopped in the doorway. My chest felt heavy in the weirdest way. I was ready to go, to move on. I knew I'd be back for summer and Christmas...but it would be different. This wasn't going to be my home anymore.

"San," Brittany called up the stairs.

"Comin'," I yelled back. I flipped the switch off and headed down the stairs.

/

Our dads were inspecting Brittany's car for the billionth time. We had convinced our parents to let us drive ourselves to college. Make a road trip out of it. It was Britt's idea and I was pretty much down for whatever she wanted.

My mom opened the back door of the car for me and I slid the box in. Britt handed me her box and I slid it in beside mine. I was surprised we were able to fit everything. We each two two suitcases full of clothes in the trunk and Brittany had a box or two in the trunk as well. I had two boxes in the back seat.

It felt weird that that was everything. I knew I owned more but it felt nice just to be taking things I needed. The car looked like a wreck. We had lamps and laundry baskets and all kinds of junk crammed inside of it. There was barely room for the cooler full of snacks that Britt managed to squeeze into the back seat, right behind the console.

That was that. Packed and ready for college.

I shut the car door and Britt and I both had to lean on it to make it shut. She slung her arm around my shoulder.

"We packed a lot of stuff."

"Yep," I said, nodding. "I can't believe we're doing this."

"I can," Brittany said quietly.

I turned to smile at her.

"Oh Santana," my mothers voice broke our moment.

I shrugged at Britt and pulled away. I'd already said goodbye to them. I walked to my mom and Brittany to her parents who were there seeing us both off.

They stood there, looking at me. My mom's hands were clasped under her chin, my father had an arm thrown around her. "Now," she began, clearing her throat. "You be careful. You've got enough money, right?"

I looked down and smiled. Sure, maybe it was a little annoying, but it was sweet. It was sweet to see them so worried, so invested in me again.

It hurt that we'd just got it right and now it was ending.

"Plenty, Britt and I have been saving for this forever," I said, trying to reassure her.

"The car looks fine but make sure you check the oil as you go. It's an older car. Remember, 10W-40. I wrote it down for you and stuck it in the glove box," my dad said, face serious. "If anything happens you have our triple A card, right? Did you want mine, too?" He pat his back pocket, searching for his wallet.

I couldn't help but laugh.

"The car will be fine, dad," I said, trying not to laugh at him.

"Well, it's old, if something breaks down..."

"Britt can probably fix it," I said, turning to look at Brittany. She was wrapped in a group hug.

He nodded. Then he smiled at me. "I will miss you," he said, so very quietly. "I'm so..."

His eyes were wet, his fists clenched at his sides. I could see everything he wanted to say. It was the same look I had given Brittany, the same way I held myself because the words were too much to say or even feel.

I know you're sorry, dad.

"I know," I said, shrugging a shoulder.

My mom broke the moment by pulling me into a bone crushing hug. I sighed and wrapped my arms around her. I was going to miss her. I was going to miss them both, so much. She let me go and smoothed down my hair. "Now, call us when you stop or if you get stuck in traffic. No texting and driving. No drinking. I would say no boys but... No girls." She laughed nervously at her own words and wiped her eyes.

"Mom, we'll be okay. I'll call you every hundred miles, okay? Don't freak out if I forget, Britts and I like to get our jam session on in the car," I said, smiling gently at her.

She put her hand on my cheek. "I love you, Santana."

"I love you, too." I didn't even have to think about the reply anymore.

I looked at my dad. He opened his mouth to say something, closed it and shook his head. "Come here," he said. He opened his arms to me and pulled me into a hug.

It was the first time he hugged me since...

Before Mark, Brittany, Glee, Cheerios...

I hugged him back and inhaled. He smelled like home, like dad, like everything I would miss while I was at college. "I am proud of you, Santana," he whispered into my hair.

I thought my heart would explode. I squeezed him hard and he returned it, gently. We parted and I wiped at my eyes. My dad sniffed and put his arm around my mom. "Now go on, enough of the waterworks and all," he joked.

I smiled and turned away, trying to discreetly wipe the tears that were desperately sliding down my cheek.

"Lopez's," Brittany said, approaching my parents. She laughed and hugged my mother, shook my dads hand. I hugged both of her parents and thanked them for everything.

Then it was time to go. We all kept saying bye, yelling out reminders as Britt and I crawled into the car. I was driving the first half. I was about to shut the door when I heard someone yell.

"Wait!"

Britt and I exchanged a look. I pulled myself out of the car, it seriously felt so cramped. I looked around. There was a car parked on the road inf ront of our house. I knew that car.

Ms. Pillsbury was walking briskly up the driveway.

"Santana," she said, slightly out of breath. "I'm so glad I caught you."

"Hi, Ms. Pillsbury," I said, smiling at her. I hadn't seen her since school let out.

"Hello," Ms. Pillsbury called to my parents and Britts. They knew her, of course. "Hello Brittany."

"Hey," Britt replied, waving her pointer finger at Emma.

"I just heard you were leaving," Ms. Pillsbury said, looking at me. "I thought you were leaving later then Rachel told Finn you were making the trip to school a road trip and I..." She paused. "I really wanted to say goodbye to you, Santana."

I knew leaving for college would be hard because I had to leave my friends, Glee, my parents and my home. Britt was coming with me, a blessing from the freaking Gods. Everything was changing, I was changing. Life would never be what it used to be. All of those feelings of leaving everything behind was expected. I dealt with it in school, spent my summer saying bye to everyone, even the corners of Lima I had oddly grown fond of. But this?

Saying bye to Emma?

I hadn't planned this.

"I just," she paused. "You're very special to me. You're very special. You're going to do so many great things at school. You and Brittany." She gives Brittany a small smile. "I'm so happy for you."

Her words feel real, heavy. They spark hope, they make everything seem possible. They make my future brighter and the road ahead seem more exciting.

Emma's been through it all with me. She saw me go from that terrified, hurt girl to this Santana. The Santana strong enough to get up in the morning and get ready for college, for life.

For life with Brittany.

If she hadn't been there for me. If she hadn't been so patient and understanding. If she hadn't believed me and talked with me and made me talk to her.

I took a few steps forward and threw my arms around her. She didn't even hesitate to hug me back, just as tight. "Thank you," I said to her, quietly.

"Of course Santana, I'd do it all over again."

I laughed, which turned into a bit of a sob. We broke apart. I wiped at my eyes, she rested a hand on my shoulder. "You're going to be so great."

I nodded.

"Will, Mr. Schuester, wanted to come say goodbye, but he got held up with this summer class he's teaching," she said, smiling sadly.

"It's okay," I said. I had so much gratitude toward Mr. Schue. I did, but there was something so much better with having just Ms. Pillsbury. "Tell him...thanks. Tell him." I paused. "Tell him I'll never have another teacher like him."

She smiled at me, so big, eyes wet. "I will."

I shrugged and pulled her in for another hug.

When we parted she sniffed a few times. "Now go, I'm sorry to crash your departure." She waved at our parents. "Sorry."

They smiled and waved back, told her it was fine.

She waved at Brittany, walked back to her car and was gone.

That was that.

"San?" Brittany's soft voice floated over the car. "Ready, babe?"

"Yeah," I said, voice hoarse.

"Want me to drive?"

"I got it," I said, slipping into the car and buckling my seat belt. I started the engine and Brittany's hand found mine on the gear shift.

"Here we go," she said smiling wide.

I laughed and reversed out of the driveway.

We waved to our parents until we couldn't see them anymore. We drove out of Lima, screaming like maniacs when we passed the sign telling us. We got on the interstate and headed north.

"I can't believe we're doing it," Britt said, turning down the radio.

"I know," I said, gripping the steering wheel. "I know."

I couldn't believe it. I finally got here.

I finally made it.


End file.
